Ocean Red
by CrimsonNoble
Summary: I feel I should apologize in advance. Too bad. Title has nothing to do with EOE. Shinji's a Living Weapon--Nodachi. The world as it was meant to be will never be the same. Fairly massively OOC Shinji, AU, X-Over.
1. When a Weapon and an Angel Meet

**Disclaimer: **If you don't know, I don't own Neo Genesis Evangelion. If you do know, why in the name of heck are you reading this? I don't own the book, The Living Weapon, but I do have permission to use elements of it. Gainax owns Eva, and NERV owns the children. And you've never heard of The Living Weapon, because it isn't out yet. I think. Or do I? *Screams in frustration.*

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Ocean Red

Chapter 1: When a Weapon and an Angel Meet…

A Neo Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji stepped off the train, holding his bag slung over his shoulder. He looked up as he started to walk away, gazing at the various clouds.

He discovered that this was a bad idea as he tumbled forward off the platform and down the stairs. He ended up on his back, the bottom stair digging into his lower back. Slowly he tumbled one final time, coming down flat on his stomach with his head next to the stairs.

An unintelligible mumble escaped his mouth, and he rolled over, finally gasping out, "ouch…"

His bag fell of the last step, smacking into his face. Ordinarily this might not have hurt, but right now his pack was filled with steel. In other words, it hurt. Bad.

Shinji's hands reached up, and pushed off the bag. Still a little unfocused, he gazed at the clouds. "Ooooou! Pretty clouds!"

He had to use both hands to push himself off the ground. He sat up, a vacantly happy look adorning his face. He turned, and gazed down the street.

A girl in a school uniform stood there, her crimson eyes fixated on where he sat. Not fully functioning, or immersed in the Power, he failed to notice that she wasn't entirely _there_.

A flock of birds took flight, alerting him. He glanced around once, and then turned back to the girl, who was simply gone. For a moment, his eyes took up approximately eighty percent of his face.

The scream of jet engines distracted him, and by the time he had finished turning to look he had taken a guess at what model the craft was. The scream of a cruise missile drew his attention.

"Cool! Cruise missiles!"

The missiles smashed into… a… thing. It was massive, likely forty-five stories in height at least. It looked like some sort of golem, vaguely human in appearance, but with its head squashed down into its torso, a head that looked like a bird's. Its arms and legs were obscenely long, and there was not possible way that limbs so thin could support its weight. But then again, Shinji was technically impossible.

Various parts of the… Sachiel?—were covered in a white bone-like material, and a red orb was set in the center of its abdomen.

The Power flooded into him, and in annoyance he shoved it roughly away, irritated that he couldn't fully embrace it. After all, the Ancient One had told him that no one was allowed to know. And the Ancient One didn't allow him to disagree with things like that.

Some sort of VTOL's swarmed the thing, like moths to a flame. The JSSDF didn't seem to know that they couldn't win, and unleashed a torrent of firepower at the Sachiel.

Sachiel didn't blink at the power that assaulted him. It reached out with one three-'fingered' hand, and from the center of its palm burst a lance of purple light.

Shinji's eyes nearly glowed with delight as he fought urge to cackle with glee.

The lance skewered several VTOL's, sending them crashing in pieces to the earth. One impacted fairly close, sending a rain of fire and shrapnel through the air. Shinji stood perfectly still, delighting in the adrenaline coursing through his veins, ready for his life to end.

Abruptly a blue sports car screeched to a halt in front of him, shielding him from the blast. A lady threw open the door, the lady whose picture, he absently noted as he scrambled to get in, making sure to grab his bag, was with the envelope in his pocket.

The door slammed shut as he got in, and the lady pulled out in a screech of tires.

"Sorry I'm late," were the first spoken words.

"You're not late. You'd be late if you were dead. And you're obviously not dead, so…" Shinji flippantly replied.

"This is _not_ the time to joke."

"Of course it is. The UN and JSSDF are being massacred, and I'd rather laugh than cry." Shinji cheerfully retorted.

"You're disgustingly cheerful given the circumstances, you know."

The circumstances are perfect to be cheerful, there's a giant, all-but-invincible thing wandering around in Tokyo-3, there are soldiers being slaughtered, there's a cruise missile being deflected off that building—"

Said missile exploded, flipping the car a full 360 degrees, probably all but destroying the shocks, and threatening a severe case of whiplash.

"—and the car was just flipped. What's there to not be cheerful about?" Shinji finished unperturbed. Noticing the driver's state of mind, he asked, "you okiies?"

Katsuragi-san stared blankly out the window, mumbling like a scratched record, "Any more and I don't know… any more and I don't know…"

"Perhaps we should move, maybe?"

She looked up, and jammed her foot onto the gas pedal as the Sachiel's foot crashed down on a building, sending dust and plaster raining through the air. The car tumbled off down the road, shuddering with every bounce.

Shinji's teeth rattled a merry tune in his skull as the car reached the tunnels. Just before they entered the tunnels, the N2 mine detonated, flipping them over again. The car landed on its side, and fell almost ponderously onto the roof, the groan of stressed metal and breaking glass giving other music to the percussion of the detonation.

Shinji looked placidly at Katsuragi-san, who was mumbling, "nomorenomoernomorenomorenomorenomorenomorenomore…" so fast that she was slurring the words together into one.

Sighing he tugged on her sleeve. "Perhaps we should turn the car over and get inside wherever we're going, hmm-ahh?"

She nodded feebly, and sort of floomphed out of the car onto the street. Shinji floomphed after her, giggling inanely.

Katsuragi-san used the car to pull herself to her feet, dazedly looking out into space with glazed eyes. She joined Shinji at the car, and gave a half-hearted tug. So she was surprised when the car flipped again, but the combination of shell shock and surprise was already too much, so it didn't register heavily.

Shinji hopped into the now heavily battered car, and bounced in his seat a little before settling down. The driver collapsed into her seat, and just barely managed to get into the 'car-tram-thing', as Shinji called it, before going limp, barely hearing his almost-exaggerated exclamations of awe.

By the time they reached the NERV pyramid, Katsuragi-san had composed herself, and begun to explain to Shinji about what they, NERV, did.

An elevator popped open in front of them several minutes later, several minutes of a mix of right and wrong turns that had them going in circles. A blonde lady wearing only a swimsuit and lab coat stepped out, glaring in an irritated way at Katsuragi-san.

"Lost again, Misato?"

Misato even managed a cheeky grin, her tongue poking between her teeth.

Shinji yawned, unimpressed.

"So is he the Third Children?"

Shinji blinked, looked around, and gave her a somewhat vacant glare. "I have siblings?! And nobody told me!?"

Misato slipped on a patch of orange liquid.

The blonde stared.

Shinji stared back.

Misato groaned and tried to get up.

(::)

The catwalk creaked ominously as Shinji stepped on.

"Jeez Shinji, how much do you weigh?" Misato joked, slipping back into her old self.

Shinji thought for a moment, before replying, "Probably around one seventy-five, why?" At her astonished look, he amended, "oh. That was one of those rhetorical questions, right?"

Then he turned toward something… big. And purple. And green. He turned to bolt screaming, "Noooooo! Barney's back!"

Misato giggled, but grabbed the back of his collar anyway.

Akagi-san, Ritsuko, forever imbedded as 'Blondie' in Shinji's mind called back, "She's not Barney. She's a man-made, all-purpose battle weapon," Blondie now had Shinji's bull attention, attracting it with 'battle', and cementing it with 'weapon'. "Artificial Human Evangelion! The last chance for humanity, this is the first unit, also the Prototype."

Shinji looked at it hard for a moment before announcing his verdict.

"Its big. And purple. And mustn't forget the green. Does that sound royally _wrong_ to anyone else?"

"Yes. When you put it that way, it does." Came a cold voice from above them.

Shinji looked up at the newest inhabitant of the chamber. He broke into a dumbass grin, "hey old man! How's it hangin'?" He greeted with a wave.

Gendo Ikari's free hand twitched. "You are going to ride in her, and you are going to battle the angel." He ploughed doggedly on.

Shinji thought for a moment. "What angel?" The room shook with the impact of the blast from the angel's attack.

"Oh. _That_ angel. Sooo," he said in an infuriatingly calm voice, "you're going to pay me to go out in something I've never seen before, let alone touched, to battle something that has thusfar proven itself all-but-invincible?"

Misato had already begun to object before Shinji had finished his first sentence. "Wait a moment commander! It took even _Rei _seven _months_ to synchronize with the Eva – remember?"

Shinji continued as if he hadn't heard her. "Cool! When do I start?"

Blondie and Misato slipped in orange goo. Gendo… tripped on his sholace.

Blondie stood with a small noise of protest. "Right this way then…" she stuttered, pressing her hand into the small of her back. Shinji hopped after her, metal-filled duffle clanging softly as it bounced on his back. He whistled almost sadistically as Blondie stumbled into a door. She handed him what looked like a pair of cat's ears. Metal cat's ears.

Shinji examined them closely for a moment before slipping them on. He glanced into a reflective surface before proclaiming, "I'm assuming that this isn't just some sort of bizarre fashion statement, right?"

"They're for helping you pilot. Now get into the plug before I force you."

"Highly unlikely that you could, but anyway, make sure that no one screws with my bag, okiies? There's some stuff in there that if not handled properly… well, lets just say I once used it to blow up my school's Chemistry Lab." He turned and skipped toward the cylindrical plug-thingy.

Shinji peered inside before plopping into his seat.

"Inserting entry plug!" A sensation of impossibly swift momentum for a machine upset his inner ear, dizzying him momentarily.

"Flooding entry plug!" Something orange poured into the plug.

"What in the name of Amel!?"

"Don't be alarmed!" Blondie's voice echoed into the rapidly filling plug. "Once your lungs are saturated with the LCL, you'll be able to undergo direct oxygen exchange!"

Shinji forced himself to calm, reminding himself that if all else failed that he could take his true form with the simple removal of the stylized leather band around his left wrist. He took a deep breah, letting the fluid flood his lungs.

So surprised was he when it felt natural, though it carried the delicious almost arousing copper taste of blood, that he missed what the techies were saying. Even if he didn't understand, he liked to know what was going on around him.

"Evangelion Unit-01, launch!"

"Releasing primary lock bolt!"

"Release confirmed! Retracting umbilical bridge!"

"Releasing primary and secondary restraints, tertiary pending!"

"Proceed."

"Release of tertiary restraints confirmed!"

"Launch the catapult!"

The g-forces crushed Shinji into his seat as the Eva rocketed surface-ward. The ride was halted abruptly as the Eva hit the end of the tracks, snapping its head back.

"Releasing final safety locks!"

Shinji's cobalt eyes literally glowed with the Power as he stared at the Angel.

Abruptly the camera feed cut off as Shinji reached for his left wrist.

The Eva started forward, glaring at the Angel from beneath its helmet. Slowly its speed increased until it was in a full sprint toward the stationary Sachiel.

Eva-01 crashed into Sachiel at full tilt, throwing both of them backward into a building, crushing it. Plaster dust covered black skin and purple armor. A gas line ruptured, spewing toxic fumes into the air.

Sachiel lifted its left arm, and from its palm burst the coruscating beam of violet light.

The light caught the Eva full in the chest, blowing backward and upward. The bio-mechanical clone literally flew for several long seconds before crashing down to the earth, pulverizing several buildings in the process. It reached out, using adjacent buildings to force itself to its feet. For several more long seconds the Eva and Angel glared at each other through a city block.

Without warning, both the Eva and the Angel acted. The Eva broke into a full sprint, bursting through some buildings, and simply stepping on and crushing others. The Angel's eyes flashed, and the Cross explosion, or rather the Seraphim Touch to use the proper name, shattered the general vicinity of where the Eva had been.

The Eva launched itself into the air, turning a full flip before coming down feet first at the Angel.

Sachiel simply stepped forward a tad, and caught the Eva's feet, using the clone's momentum to drive it face first into the concrete and tar. For a moment the two held their positions, the Eva resting in its crater, and the Angel gripping its calves.

Then, out of nowhere, the Eva turned a somersault, lifting the Angel over the clone's head with its own grip, and coming down hard. In a continuation of the same move, the Eva came up straddling Sachiel's thin waist. Almost nonchalantly, as if the blow didn't matter, as if the battle had been a foregone conclusion from the start, Unit-01 drove its arm all the way up to the shoulder through the Third Angel's body, beginning at the bird-like face, and ending several meters into the earth.

Eva Unit-01 stood, and with a keening, undulating screech, not unlike that of a velociraptor or a bird of prey, announced to the world its rebirth.

END CHAPTER ONE 

Flame, praise, whatever. Don't if you don't want to.


	2. Wakings and Pyro Moments

Xeo—Psychoticness is fun and stuff like that. I'm demented. *nods rapidly* anyone else here demented? *looks around*

Ranshin—like penguins wielding cream pies stampeding over my prone body? *bashes head on wall* oops. *shrugs* oh well. I got it wrong. Not the first time, not the last.

C^rrot--… the reason? I must have a reason? Yiss… he's insane. I thought that was fairly obvious… mmm… maybe he and Asuka get into fight… *laughs at mental image*

Xenogears—this is detrimental to your sanity. *nods sagely* otherwise it is nothing. Now I've already lost mine, so no worries for me.

seawolf—okiies. Asketh and thou shalt receive. Descriptive is bad? *wanders away humming "Bring Me to Life"*

Optimus Magnus—You'd like Blackened Sunrise by the Itch then. Go read it. It's among my favorites. *waits for reward*

evaunit-01—thank you. ^_^

Disclaimer: Nopes. Shinji belong to NERV. NERV belong to Gainax. Don't think I be either. Living Weapons belong to someone else. Else means not self. NOT ME! Still has permission, as far as knowledge goes and stuff like that. Dis=not Claimer=to declare ownership. Disclaimer=Not Declaring Ownership. I own the dear Ancient One though. ^_^

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Ocean Red

Chapter 2: Wakings and Pyro Moments

A Neo Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji woke unpleasantly. Yes, having several needles full of sedatives in his arm classified as unpleasant to him. And with white being the first color that he saw, he pouted.

White wasn't a fun color. Red, yiss, red was a good color. Red, black, and blue. Yellow was okay, but red, black, and blue were better. After all, they were the colors deep inside a flame. And fire was good. Very good. Tasty if you could get it in your mouth too.

For a moment he pondered if he should start the room on fire. That would change the color -- fast. Then he dismissed the idea. His bag might be in here after all and while he hadn't lied about blowing up the chemistry lab, he hadn't mentioned that the destruction had also included the faculty lounge and gym. By that time he had been running, and several miles away. Though why the faculty had been upset was beyond him, the lounge had been a dull grey, the chemistry lab off-white, and the gym had been almost pre-second impact.

He sat up, tugging out several of the needles accidentally, and looked around the room. Irritatingly, there was nothing distinctive to destroy. That would have been fun. And would have achieved being banned from ever entering the place again, but… that might be a good thing. He didn't like hospitals.

Shinji glared at the window. It was too clear. Darkness was good, yiss… And the window was open. He nearly gagged in the fresh air it let in. Well, not _fresh_, but similar. Recycled air. Which was marginally better.

He rolled out of the bed, landing lizard-like, tearing the remaining needles from his body. Shinji skittered around the room, it wasn't that it was cluttered; it was that it wasn't, so he had to be careful to stay out of the security camera's view. After all, no one needed to know how he escaped. The door opened for him, unavoidable, but irritating nonetheless.

It was quite amusing, he decided several hours later, how it had taken only a forty-five story being rampaging through the countryside to attract the attention of the city almost immediately, when it took the hospital staff almost three and a half hours to discover that he wasn't in his room. And he had defeated the rampaging thing. Sad it was. Extremely funny, but sad.

Especially depressing because he was sitting in plain sight in the waiting room. More or less. He watched another nurse run past.

Then again, humorous described the situation better.

--

He watched as a gurney wheeled past, transporting a girl with blue hair and crimson eyes. She was quite pretty; at least he supposed she was. Her alabaster-pale skin reminded him too much of the Ancient One for comfort though.

The Ancient One had taken care of him since just before he had blown up the school. It was him that had been the one to catch Shinji, and what he had done… Shinji shivered.

He glanced after the girl, and locked eyes with his father. A brief flash of rage coursed through him, but was subdued ruthlessly. He waved to the older man.

"Hope I never have to see your face without those sunglasses _Old_ Man!"

Shinji turned, and skipped away, whistling loudly. The song, of course, being the 'bring it, burn it, smash it, crush it,' song. Almost as fun to sing in the middle of school as setting fire to the fire station had been. That had been truly funny. What had made it all the more amusing was that there had been no convenient ways to put the fire out.

Luckily, the Ancient One hadn't cared about that incident.

Shinji turned a corner. Or rather, _tried_ to turn a corner, and smashed into someone coming the opposite direction. He fell backwards, being completely in the air skipping, and winced as he landed.

The other person was bowled over by Shinji's momentum, and landed on her ass.

Katsuragi-san mumbled a muffled sound. At least, that was what it sounded like. It could have been many things. Shinji squeaked as she loomed over him, and then grinned his stoner grin. She loomed more. His grin widened.

"What was that for!"

Shinji blinked. "What was it not for?"

She glared. "What are you on!"

Shinji pondered the question for a long moment. "Oxygen, carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, and nitrogen?"

Misato had no response. What can you say to someone who has just confessed that they are on substances that if they were pure should kill them?

So. She did the only thing that made sense. Turned and looked at a wall while she collected her thoughts.

Shinji cocked his head to one side. "Something wrong with the older-than-me-but-younger-than-Ikari-senior lady?"

She turned back. Ignoring his question, she asked, "Well, I can take you to your place if you're ready! But, are you really okay with being alone?"

Shinji's gaze turned vacant. "Yiss… I am okay with that… after all, the old guy doesn't want me around. But hell, I don't want him around either, so… whatever." His eyes focused again. "So! Anyone screw with my bag?"

Perhaps she missed the almost hopeful tone in his voice, because she responded too quickly. "No. Which bag was this?"

"Ahh… okiies… well now, I'm going to go somewhere and do something. Yiss… got to get my bag back… wonder what Blondie did with it…" He trailed off into random mumblings. His eyes seemed to flicker, and his right hand leapt to his left wrist for a moment, almost like he was checking for something. A vague smile creased his lips, and he turned toward the door. "Yiss… must retrieve my bag, I must…"

Distantly he heard Katsuragi-san following him, but his mind was filled with the compulsion to find the bag. Nothing like the bag… nothing like it in the world…

Besides. The bag had his towel in it. And to loose his towel… that would be very uncool.

--

His towel was safe. Shinji was happy. He poked it once, making sure it didn't move. It had gained sentience once, a highly advanced colony of bacteria on it merging to form a being superior to any the towel had been. He'd killed it.

It simply wouldn't do to have his towel running around telling people what sort of cruelties it had been put through by the Ancient One. Because the Ancient One believed almost as firmly as Shinji did in the saying, "If you can't live with it, burn it." And loosing his towel… no.

He poked it again, just to be safe. When it still didn't move, he picked it up. Into his bag it went.

He turned and glanced around. Katsuragi-san was staring at him incredulously. "What was _that_?"

Shinji grinned vacantly. "My towel. One of the most useful things in the universe, towels are. One might say ridiculously useful.

"Now, where is it I'm living?"

"In apartment block 3-A. It is also where the First Children lives."

"You mean there's more than just one family here? Or is this an older sibling?"

Misato slipped in orange goo.

"You know," Shinji observed brilliantly, "they really ought to clean more often. Someone could really get hurt." Mentally he added, 'Can't have that if it is not my fault.'

Shinji gripped Katsuragi-san by the hand, and lifted her off the ground. She gave him a _look_. This was one of the _looks_ used to intimidate people. People did not like having a _look_ directed at them.

Shinji grinned. "Thou shalt be more careful in the future, young grasshopper. Next time you might not have me here to pull you off your arse."

Cobalt eyes fixed on Katsuragi's earrings. Diamond studs. Just to keep in practice, he ran through the various methods of killing someone with stud earrings. The sheer number of possible tactics was staggering.

Katsuragi evidently noted his study, but ignored it. Little disgust was evident in her face, she was too used to men staring at her. Shinji finished his review and looked away. She was wearing a necklace too. Strangle wire, troga, or stopper. Had little actual stopping power, but delaying power was good too. Of course, you could set it on fire…

She poked him. "Helloooo! Earth to Shinji!"

Shinji jumped, reflexively swatting aside her hand, and mentally cursing himself for letting anyone get so close without him noticing. It would have been unfortunate if she had made a sudden movement. Unfortunate for her, at least. He didn't want to be put on trial for killing a superior officer either. After all, his bag had good stuff in it. Like a lighter for one. Lots more stuff too. Fun stuff. Like… a pair of combat knives and another brace, this one of Walther P-99 handguns. Chosen mainly because it didn't have a safety, after all, who liked safeties anyway? Double taps were just as fun as a normal sidearm, and didn't accidentally go off… but they didn't have a safety either. And made it so much more fun to point the gun in someone's face and pull the trigger. Only for them to discover that the gun didn't go off. Walther P-99, expensive. Magazine for said Walther P-99, also expensive. The look on someone's face when the gun did not go off, discharging a round into his cranium, priceless. That was when Shinji pulled the trigger the second time.

Shinji's eyes sort of unfocused and he walked off in the direction of the car humming Vash's Genocide song.

Misato attempted to come to terms with this, failed, and followed him arguing with herself whether she should or should _not_ drive Shinji to a mental facility instead of his new residence.

--

As Misato pulled up to the apartment where Shinji was staying, she hadn't yet decided between the two. Rather, she had put off deciding until an indeterminate date, by which she would either be dead and gone or so senile she would have long forgotten that she had decided to decide on that day. Yes, procrastination was a wonderful thing.

"Room…" Misato looked at the card. "Either its 99 or 66. Be glad it isn't 69." Shinji stared at her blankly. "Yeah. Right. Here's the key." She threw said key at him, perhaps harder than necessary.

"Now," she continued, "are you absolutely sure that you are fine living by yourself?"

Shinji rolled his eyes in exasperation, having heard the question at least fifteen times on the way to his apartment. "Yes, _MOTHER_."

He turned without further words, and started humming a different song. 'Let it burn, let it fall, start the fire on the wall. Make him turn, make him drown, and it all went tumbling down…'

Yes, through experience he had learned to not sing these songs out loud. Perhaps too much experience, but he was remarkably thick about people's sensitivity to killing, destruction, and other violent things.

Misato stared at him, pondering whether to run out, drag him back, and smack him around the ears before motoring off to an asylum. Or NERV headquarters. One of the two, both places would amount to the same in the end. Before she had a chance to implement either idea, Shinji had disappeared into the building. Misato sighed, and started to drive away, haphazardly as was her trademark. The boy would have to work out his problems on his own.

Had she asked Shinji if he had issues, his response would have been, 'Issues? What are these 'issues' you speak of?' And would have started him into a self-psycho evaluation. He would have diagnosed himself as being perfectly normal, but that was only because he couldn't remember another way of being.

Shinji stopped in front of his new apartment. 'Twas noisy, but that would help hide the… sounds of his… practice. And he could try to get a side-job with the construction crew. Despite all appearances, he was not naive. His Old Man wasn't doing this out of the benevolence of his heart… just the worry that Big, Green, and Purple wouldn't respond to anyone else. Despite the numerous redundancy systems the man had no doubt built in, Shinji had felt it struggle to free itself from his control, so he'd finished the battle quickly.

And the thing had been so strong! A veritable well-storm of the Power! It was… intoxicating. More than anything else now he wanted to ride the beast again, to feel the Power thrumming through him as he fought. Oh, yes, the Old Man was definitely good…

Shinji smiled as the thought of driving his knife into the man's stomach and twisting. Ahh, the screams the man would make… The other thought he smiled at was the image of Shuriken in an Evangelion. Or her face when she saw and felt what he got to ride in.

He slid the key through the reader, and pushed the door open. He ditched his shoes, not so much because it was custom as because it was an easier way to retrieve them in case of a hasty exit. His bag he tossed into the room, where it landed with enough force to shake the floor, and stepped after it.

It was certainly dark. The windows were boarded, another plus as far as he was concerned, and the lights appeared to be broken. The room would be useful. The sound of his bag's zipper being undone was strangely loud in the apartment.

From the bag, which was rather large for something meant to be carried in one hand, or even carried at all, he began to draw an impressive assortment of weapons. A nodachi, a pair of sidearms, four knives -- two switchblades, two combat knives, a pair of scimitars, fourteen shuriken -- six stars, eight dart (all were a gift), three throwing knives, a foot-long straight sword, and last but not least, a pair of leather nearly-fingerless gloves. These gloves he tugged on, before digging into his duffle and drawing forth several dozen vials of a suspicious liquid. Improved nitro-glycerin. _Very_ entertaining.

The vials he carefully placed in a drawer in his new dresser, then covered them with a couple of shirts. Not school shirts, both were burgundy, and not entirely for casual wear. In the next drawer went two pairs of pants that looked like they had come from a Gi, black, and for the same use as the shirts. In the other drawers, he shoved his school clothes.

Then he dug into his bag again, coming out with… his towel. It was not a towel used to wash oneself, indeed no self-respecting housekeeper would have thought twice about throwing it out. Neither would anyone want to touch it to dry himself. It looked like it had never been washed. And it hadn't. Washing it would have been the ultimate insult. It was very dirty-looking.

Shinji huggled it, and then carefully placed it on his bed. He lifted the nodachi, and slowly began to execute the forms. Slowly his speed increased, and his skill shone through, displaying years of diligent practice. Somehow, during his almost blurred momentum, he snatched the straight sword up, and a new element was added to his dance. The blades whirled, dancing through the air, passing so close they almost touched. The air sang as it parted on the edge of the blades, and the dance moved faster still, until it seemed that Shinji was almost surrounded by a cage of whirling blades.

His movements reached a crescendo, moving inhumanly fast, and he began to slow. The scream of the air parting on the sharper-than-razor edges on his blades quieted, until the room was silent. In his final position he held both blades crossed, the width of a hair all that separated them.

He lowered both weapons, and wiped his forehead clean. He nodded in the affirmative. "Shower."

And so he set out to conquer the door to the bathroom.

End Chapter Two 

Seemed like a good place to end it. Good enough at any rate. Praise, Flame, don't, as you wish. I happen to agree with Shinji on his last verbal line.


	3. School is Overrated

Vesa—well, good news and bad news go hand in hand. Most of the time, anyway. First piece of good news, I'm still on it. Second piece of good news, I'm still writing. One piece of bad news, you're on it too, its called, "Oxygen". Yep, weirdness is good. Especially when trying to pull something somewhat serious. Kinda. Not this though.

Arizosa—cool. Bushes are fun. *nods* but, how did you figure out that I was insane?

Ranshin—yep. Of course he'll be using them on people… what else would he be using them on? Romance… nothing sexual at least. I don't know beyond that. .;; but… heck, why just the knives?

D14852001—yep. Plot? Yeah. The plot. .;; traductions? What does that mean?

Nameless Reviewer—yep. Fire fun, paper burns, Shinji set many things on fire, no worries. ^_^

LitaJ—yep. Asked permission to do this actually. Poor itchie… grounded… *sighs*

Xeo—hmm… Asuka a Living Weapon would be definitely odd… *ideas run rampant throughout mind* NO! STOP IT! *six-inch wielder of the eleven-inch Lancea Logini chases away from computer, repeatedly bashing over head* I'M SORRY! I'LL NEVER TELL YOU TO STOP AGAIN! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! But, dementedness is goodness. I've already planned out the chap that covers EoE, and its going to be… nope, won't spoil it. ^_^

Katfum—I've actually run across it both ways. Yeah, but Shinji's not _just_ a fourteen year old. The summary specifically states that he's a Living Weapon. And I know a thirteen year old who's rapidly approaching six feet. Hell, I'm not that much older than fourteen, and I'm about five eleven. 'tis not impossible. I used the nodachi because naginata was already used, and katana is just… overused, while I'm also going to use Wakizashi, and tanto didn't fit. So nodachi was the only weapon left that I knew of that fit… besides, it is his Weapon Name… and that's rather important. So… go read Blackened Sunrise by The Itch, and perhaps you shall understand. I make no bets though… but it is a very good fic. Despite being Harry Potter, even if you don't like it(Potter). I do wonder how D(Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust) manages _his_ sword…

Señor Funkalicious—now, now, didn't anyone ever tell you not to ask someone for spoilers? ^_^ don't worry. It shall be explained sometime… maybe not soon, but…

Ienz—now, who said that Shinji-boy was depressed here? Hmm… yes, I did put, 'fairly major OOC Shinji' in the summary.

evaunit-01—nope. You are mistaken. You're forgiven. 'tis one of the shorter Nodachi, and yep, he has a very big bag. Besides, the Power has no concept of impossibility.

Disclaimer: … still not owning Shinji, NERV, Gainax, or Evangelion. Still not owning The Living Weapon either. Perhaps I shall incorporate Blades (which _are_ mine) into this… *eyes glow* that would be… fun. ^_^.

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Ocean Red

Chapter 3: School Is Overrated… In the Danger Department

A Neo(n) Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji stepped out of his apartment. School wasn't a particularly dangerous concept… unless they had somehow obtained his list of offences from his old school. Even then, it wasn't so much threatening as uncomfortable. It was a long list.

As school wasn't exactly dangerous, he was going armed lightly. In other words, he was only armed with a pair of brass knuckles, and the pair of switchblades. His bracers and shin guards were a little too obvious. Just a little. Not by that much, but… besides. The shirts they had to wear were short-sleeved. Even so, any muggers who happened to be out would not enjoy messing with him. On the other hand, neither would a small army of any sort. Provided it wasn't an army of those like himself, of course. In which case, the ensuing fight would be entirely dependant on who was more insane.

His shoes weren't all that good for running, but they weren't the worst. Not by a long shot. So he started running. He wasn't late, in fact he was quite early… but there was never a bad time for training. His hands were still in his gloves, but that didn't really matter. The gloves weren't weapons, nor were they to protect his hands. They were to protect whatever he happened to be punching.

He whistled idly, this time a song by an American band, pre-Second Impact. It would have taken a lot to find anything from the band, as it was across an ocean, and so much devastation being wrought by Second Impact, had the Ancient One not been from America. It was such a cool song. Nice tune too.

Shinji's hands dangled tensely next to his sides. He would have to explore the… darker side of Tokyo-3 soon. It was an irresistible attraction to him, the risk, the blood, the flashing steel… the pain…

His smile stretched as images of fire, horsemen, and burning villages rampantly raged through his mind. The Ancient One had owned a weakling… admittedly, an old weakling, one that had lived in the same place as Genghis Khan, and often accompanied the renowned barbarian. The Ancient One had also used the nearly burnt-out Living Weapon to teach Shinji to lift people's memories. Ahh, the joys of being a Weapon…

Shinji's musings were interrupted as he arrived at the school. Tokyo-3 Junior High. 'Really original name' was his opinion on the matter, often accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Not much could be said about the building itself either. Plain brick. It would certainly have to be stepped on… accidentally, of course.

//_Mental note: check and see if there are any other schools in the city_//

Satisfied he nodded agreeably to himself, and started to trot to the office. He needed to find out which class was his, after all.

--

Let it be forever known that few things could make Shinji Ikari loose his patience. However, unfortunately, one of these was being forced to sit in a school office while they checked your transfer notes. As funny as said notes might be…

For example, one said, 'keep Ikari away from swimming pool', because he had once managed to put a hole in the filter. No one had asked how. It was just one of those things that Shinji did. One, of course, said, 'keep Ikari out of the chemistry lab'. Another, 'keep student away from sharp objects'. Stemming from the time that he had put a pair of scissors through the blackboard, barely missing a wide-eyed student. It hadn't been _his_ fault, the scissors had been resting on the table, on the edge of a binder. He had stumbled, and slapped down on the part of the binder that was over the edge, in open space. The scissors had been launched through the air, and had gone through the blackboard. He was completely guiltless.

The list was fairly extensive, and school was about to commence before they finished the list. Shinji had long since stopped listening, preferring to toy with the various implements of pain on his person. Because implementing pain was far more interesting than a record he knew backwards. Now, he didn't know it forwards, but that was okay with him. It wasn't his job to know it forwards.

For unknown reasons various violent songs started playing in his head. The principal waved him out of the room, telling him that it was, "Class 2-A". Shinji scampered to the room. Damn, it had taken a long time to get that done.

He arrived, panting and out of breath, and entered. There were several more empty seats than he might have expected, and all of those were in the back of the class. Most notably, there was a ring around the blue-haired, crimson-eyed, alabaster-skinned girl he had seen in the NERV hospital. Shinji flopped down next to her. Amusingly, no one cared. Other than the fact that he was new, no one noticed him.

A disturbing thing happened when the teacher entered the room, a brown-haired girl with pigtails and freckles stood up, and bellowed over the class, "STAND! BOW! SIT!" The tone of her voice was so similar to the Old Man's that he obeyed immediately, without thought. Damn that bastard, too bad the bastard gene didn't run in the family… because it would have been really funny to see what the Ancient One would have made of someone like his father. Possibly quite gory, but that would not only have been funny, but would have given him something to do as well.

Shinji slumped in his seat, flicking open the laptop and logging on easily. He browsed the school rules, noting that they hadn't yet been updated to accommodate his somewhat… unique method of causing trouble. Trouble, mayhem, and madness he amended.

A window popped up. [Are you the pilot? Y/N]

Shinji stared at it. [Who are you?]

[Are you the pilot? Y/N] it insisted.

[No, I'm just someone who, by freak coincidence arrived on the same day the thing attacked and the other thing beat its ass down. And came to school a week later.]

[…]

[And besides, do you really think someone could pilot _anything_ without prior training? How could I have had that if I just arrived here?]

[…]

[…] Shinji closed the window.

It popped up again. [So… that's a yes, isn't it.]

Shinji bashed his head against the keyboard, typing jibberish. [b hngb hgvb hgvb hg]

[Yes, he's the pilot boys!]

The next instant half the class was crowding around his desk. It was making him nervous, and when he was nervous… it was most definitely not a good thing. His control over the Power twitched. Cracks abruptly spread throughout the desk from where his fingers rested on it. The Saevrok in him was growing nervous. His fingers began to tap, making dents in the wood as the class's voices melded into one, distorted, not-understandable roar. And then, they were gone, the class rep having sent them all to their seats. His control returned, and he released the extra build-up of power from his tension into the desk. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that the desk had cracks in it, and thus was surprised when part of it began to break off.

//_Mental note: do not destroy desk_//

The section was dangling by a good deal less than a millimeter of material, and in a moment of lucidity, Shinji remembered that, highly unluckily, he couldn't repair inanimate things on with the Power. The bell for lunch rang, interrupting his thoughts and surprising him so much that he let out the mixed hiss and snarl that was the trademark of all Saevrok. Though only one existed at a time, they were all literally identical, and the noise they made was unique.

He left the room, ignoring the ire he felt behind him. His stride carried him to the roof, where he turned to gaze out over the area.

Oddly, there were several trees next to the school, utterly still in the breezeless air. The heat felt good, yet made him slightly lazy, and would have aided in his digestion, had he eaten anything. Through the gloves, he felt the heat where he rested his hands on the iron railing, and his fingertips felt like they were burning as the bare skin rested on the seemingly molten metal. The sun beat down on the season-less country, dulling his senses.

So he didn't hear the boy approaching him until the Power alerted him to the fact that he was being attacked from behind. He reacted.

But more importantly, he reacted without _thinking_. His sidestep carried him away from the punch, and he drove a back kick to the attacker's leg. His foot cracked against the other boy's shin, and then retracted quickly. The enemy slipped, breaking his nose on the railing. Blood splattered the metal, distracting Shinji momentarily. Red blood… so pretty…

Lazily he reached out and grabbed the student by the collar of his tracksuit, casually lifting him.

"If you have a problem with me… say it to my face, because attacks from behind aren't very sportsman-like at all." Shinji smiled at the look on the boy's face, a bloody mix of terror and hate. "Yiss, hate me… fear me… and stay away from me!" Shinji slammed the boy backward into the railing, so he took the bar to his lower back. He turned, and started back into the building. Stupid little boy… weaklings were amusing.

--

The entry plug slammed into the Eva, a rumble echoing through the cylinder. LCL poured into the tube, almost smothering Shinji as he sat contentedly in the seat. He took a deep breath of the liquid, letting it "saturate" his lungs. Take two pints and call me in the morning.

It was cold, which was really all he was thinking at the moment. Very cold… so cold… Shinji's eyes slid shut, shivering slightly as his body attempted to warm itself.

The LCL energized, sending a pleasant shock roiling through his body, warming him nicely. His eyes popped open, widening impossibly large for a moment before the shock faded and he took another deep breath of the fluid. He attempted to make a sentence. He failed. What came out was more along the lines of, "Ou muh loge?" Which was supposed to be, 'How much longer?'

"What was that Shinji?"

Having figured out how to talk in the LCL, Shinji repeated, "How much longer?"

He saw the smirk flicker briefly across Katsuragi's face. Not good. "Oh, no more than about three hours…"

Shinji glared at her. Katsuragi shivered involuntarily beneath the danger hidden in his eyes. "Most of which will be spent in training in use of the prog knife and the pallet rifle." Shinji snickered at that. _Them_, train a _Living Weapon_? It was… beyond funny.

His eyes glazed vaguely as he resigned himself to a fate of boredom. This would be… irritating.

--

Shinji flopped into his bed. It wasn't that the tests at NERV had been hard, quite the opposite, but they had been so dull… he glared at the ceiling. At least the rest of his stuff had come, and of course the first thing he had done was set up the computer. Because computers were fun, and besides that, his e-mail needed checking. Of course, he didn't have the DSL connection he'd had with the Ancient One, so he was reduced to a mere 112k modem.

The computer made a sort of ping-binging noise signaling that it was, at last, connected. A new record, one hour.

**'Dachi.**

**Hey, blown anything up yet? Hope not, wait a few until I get there, wouldja? Just kiddin', feel free to blow up anything in the meantime. Keep a log though, so you can tell me exactly what it was, mmmkay? Keep the fire antics to a minimum, Ye Olde Revered One is being evil… says if you choose to burn your school down he'll be the one to exact revenge. That wouldn't be fun, would it? Well, funny…**

**That's it for now, but if you've been breaking your desk again…**

**Shuri'**

Shinji smirked. Classic Shuriken, no respect for secrecy, confidentiality, or privacy. 'Twas a bit annoying all the same.

He settled his fingers on the keyboard, and thought for a bit, preparing his reply.

Shuri' 

**… yep. Several things. Big ones. Heh… my lighter disappeared somehow; do you know how that could be? My desk is in one piece… mostly.**

**Ye Olde Bastard, aka Rokobungi is off checking my grades… so keep the nick to min until I give the okiies? Yeah. Violence stay small too, keep the Ancient One in mind when thinkin' bout Rokobungi. Keep thine darts to thyself, and get thine ass over here!**

**'Dachi**

Perfect. Much of it seemed like unintelligible jabber atwixt two friends… but held meaning. His wristband had stayed on (except for the one incident), his e-mail was being screened, no one knew his Weapon Name, and if she wanted to talk about 'sensitive subjects', that she should come to Tokyo-3 to do so. Suitably messed up.

The send button was clicked, and his reply was sent. She would be here… obviously. Shuriken didn't let him get away with anything… without being in on it. Perhaps he would get her into Unit-01… then again, to do so would be worthy of execution for crimes against the state. Well, he'd just have to keep her away… until he didn't want to.

He lifted the straight sword, and flicked his wrist, dropping a switchblade into his palm. The flash of silver was all that was visible before he began once again to dance.

It just wasn't the same without a partner…

End Chapter 

A/N: "Americanized Anime pisses me off. The companies will never keep it long enough to have it make sense, the dubbing is mostly horrible, and they usually edit all blood and language 'til it's presentable to Mormon toddlers. Adult Swim is canceling Bebop in favor of Lupin III (which the Lupin series is not bad in itself...but why cut Bebop?) and Trigun in for Reign (the arguably worst anime, with exception to Hamtaro, Pokemon, and Yu-gi-oh.)" ~Ovandian

Now, it should be, "American Bastardized Anime pisses me off. The networks never keep it long enough to make sense, unless its something that doesn't make sense in the first place, in which case they will show the entire thing, the dubbing is horrible enough to change the entire plot, and they edit all blood and language until it is presentable to Mormon toddlers." I'm not happy now. They ditched TRIGUN for REIGN? *is very angry*

Anyway… can anyone tell me what happens between the squid-angel and the diamond-angel? I'm afraid I don't have the first DVD of NGE… so I'm pulling it from the two manga I have of it. Flame, praise, question the utter bizzarity of it, don't if you don't want to.


	4. NO! NOT THE WHIP!

Optimus Magnus--… completely his natural personality. Sorta. Mostly. Funny is good. Dementation is also good. ^__^

Chaotc Order—yep. Shinji a psycho. ^__^ hmm… *is happy with summary* thankiies. ^_^ slaughter… must find this song! BUT! Remember, you can never spell "slaughter" without "laughter"!

evaunit-01—cool. Can you? Please show me where to find them? *puppy-dog eyes* the hospitals are indeed restraining… but only if you're one of the few, the proud, the completely sane..;; rather than being one of the boring people who suffer from the hallucination that they're sane, that is. I'm insane… I just don't get caught. My ranting ravings are mostly taken not-seriously. 'Tis fun. 'Specially when people fail to realize that I'm not joking until they are on the receiving end of my insanity. Then again, for all you know I'm in a straightjacket… No one I know personally heard that, right? .

NPH—well, thanks for the criticism. I don't know what's going through my head right now, but I'm going to say, if you don't like it, read and flame anyway. ^__^ Out of curiosity, are you one of those moody teenagers who take themselves so seriously they can't have fun? No offense if you aren't.

Arizosa—nutty is right! Humor is intended, though I find that I'm not good at it so it stays funny after a couple read-throughs. Unless you're insane and stuff like that.

C^rrot—hmm… I'd almost forgotten about the Jet Alone… that was one ugly robot… Funny is good, interesting is good, flammable is also good. Shinji being a bad boy… *scolds Shinji* yep, feel sorry for Asuka, that I do. Kenshin is fun! ^_^ hmm… one more angel and the JA before Asuka-san shows up, 'twill be fun to see how she attempts to cope with someone who doesn't stand still for her to hit…

Lita of Jupiter—Ancient One may stay off in… wherever he is right now… hmm… .;; forgot to put him somewhere, that I did… Shuri' shows up! That she does, and instead of Shinji running away, Shinji _and_ Shuri' wander off… Section 2's gonna have a little problem on their hands! ^_~ Dear old Ancient is probably going to show up, torture someone, and go off and vanish for a while. He's just… my Id if you know Freudian psychology.

Bleakheart666—Bleak! Gee, haven't heard from you since… umm… chapter 5/6 of order of Eva? .;; heh… worry not! Chapter 7's being written! …it's just not cooperating…

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Ocean Red

Chapter 4: NO! NOT THE WHIP!

A Neo(n) Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji was already moving before the siren had finished blaring. Angels picked the best times to attack it seemed.

Hell, as long as he got to skip the teacher's lectures on the Gott damned second impact he was fine. This was only the eighth time the teacher had given the same lecture in one week. If he didn't crack and kill the old man he deserved a nomination for sainthood. As it stood, when he found his lighter that desk was going down!

His eye twitched. The leather was itching him again. Damn he wanted the Power back.

Only then did he notice that his phone was ringing.

"It is Shinji, that it is. You got something to say?"

"Shinji get your ass down here!" Ahh, an irate operations director. Then again, only she and Shuriken had his number. And Shuriken almost didn't know how to use a phone.

"Yes ma'am. Arriving at NERV gates now." That hadn't taken very long for the trip… Shinji threw it off with a mental shrug. Wasn't his problem.

He slid the card through reader calmly, his breath slowing. The gates hissed open, and he stepped through, feeling the reverberation as the gateway smashed shut. 

He sighed. The escalator was such a slow method of travel.

When he'd _finally_ managed to change into his plugsuit and get to his Eva, he still didn't know anything about the Angel.

"Shinji. When you reach the surface, take the rifle, neutralize the enemy's AT field, and fire."

"Do not worry. It is dead." The communication box collapsed in on itself abruptly, shut and blocked from inside the Eva.

The G-forces attempted to crush him into the seat as the Eva catapulted surface-ward. How they put him inside the city, and over the geo-front with no apparent tunnels was beyond him, but it worked. And that was enough. He bounced as Unit-01 jerked to a halt, immense momentum being halted so he didn't go on an impromptu trip to the stratosphere. He wouldn't have minded it really, but dying was definitely not on the agenda for today. Because, as they say, what goes up must come down. And come down hard the Evangelion would.

A metallic chinking sound confirmed that he was released. His hands darted to the rifle, ripping it free from the restraints. This Angel was so slow…

_There_! A burst lashed from the end of the firearm, pounding into the Angel's thick hide.

He got his first good look at it when it dodged the shells. It looked like a squid… except no squid had ever had a body quite so… hell, its body looked like string cheese. Admittedly, much larger than any stick of cheese ever made, but… that was the best way of describing it. Then there were the lobster-like eight or so legs positioned just below the diamond shaped head, and behind the delta-almost-diamond-shape of the other things. Not legs, there was something in them…

The delta-diamond broke into two pieces, each piece revealing a whip. This might not be good…

The whips lashed out, one blowing through his rifle, the other trying to skewer him. Shinji preformed a sort of half-twisting fall that hurt. Quite a bit. The tentacle-whip destroyed a building behind him as it passed behind his back

Shinji used the building to haul Unit-01 to its feet, just in time to be caught by another lash of the whips. Said whips curled around his Eva's arm, tightening painfully. _Pull_, he commanded the clone.

The Eva went one step further, gripping the angel's whip with his other hand, and jerking it towards her. An icy cold smile curved Shinji's lips. The Eva rammed its horn into the Angel's head, and the Angel screamed. It wasn't a verbal scream, but a wave of Power rushed out from it. The one scream leveled the entire block of buildings. Unit-01 shoved the Angel off its horn, still gripping the tentacles, feeling the delicious agony of flames so icy-hot flames searing its flesh. The Eva ripped its arm free of the tentacles, driving its fist into the bright red orb seated in its chest.

The Angel screamed again, and the purple-armored being's knees buckled beneath the force of the blow. Sensing its advantage, Shamsiel lifted itself from the earth, and tried to hover over Shinji's Eva. Shinji was having none of that however, and hauled on the whips, Unit-01's palm nearly burnt away, and brought it crashing down back to earth.

Shamsiel didn't scream, it roared in fury, and using the whips managed to do to the Eva what Shinji had just done to it. The Eva's grip on the tentacles loosened, letting the Angel retrieve its limbs. Shinji's eyes narrowed within the plug. _No one_ threw him.

He released the prog knife, vaguely hearing the order to retreat, and stood. The blade hummed, vibrating in his un-damaged hand. Shamsiel stared at him for a moment, and then sent its whips out again.

Eva Unit-01 merely jumped over the attack, hung suspended for an instant in the air, and slammed down on top of the Angel. Shamsiel bucked, attempting to remove the insect that dared to touch his holy hide. Said insect was doing its best to hang on, aided by the knife it drove into the Angel's back. For the rest of five minutes, Shinji wondered why it took Shamsiel so long to figure out that by rolling over it could get the Eva off its back.

It did so, depositing Unit-01 onto the wreckage of several buildings, and rotated again. Shinji laughed at its stupidity, and rammed the progressive knife into the completely exposed core. Proving that, if nothing else, the Angels were good for a couple of laughs. The core went boom.

Liquid fire rolled over the behemoth as the Angel self-destructed itself to retain dignity. Shinji understood the action, from a purely outsider's standpoint. Death before Dishonor or Defeat.

"So the Angels hold their honor to themselves as tightly as humans…" //_Pathetic_//

Only when the biomechanical beast powered down did Shinji realize that when Shamsiel had thrown him that the power cable had been ripped. He lay in the seat until the technicians pried the plug out. By that time he had begun to laugh at the concept of honor, and had trouble standing long enough to get out of the Eva.

He turned to look at the scorched beast. His fist slammed into his palm, and then he turned away. It deserved respect… not many things could resist being controlled but see the wisdom of the master…

--

The steel cuffs felt odd against his wrists. It wasn't that they were anything unusual, it was by no means uncommon for the Ancient One to chain him to a wall for disobedience or out of natural sadism. No, it was that his wrists weren't like they normally were when the cuffs curled around them. And he wasn't in as uncomfortable a position, such as arms being pulled behind his back and then chained above his head.

Shinji heard the Captain enter the cell. It didn't deserve the name cell actually; it was far too clean and modern. A _proper_ cell would have a rusty iron maiden and other such devices. Hopefully a rack as well, but that wasn't as important. It was far too brightly lit as well, not exactly painful, but not the proper dreary atmosphere either. There weren't any rats either.

"You disobeyed a direct order. And you destroyed almost two full city blocks. I could overlook the fact that the Eva's hand has been mostly burned away in light of the fact that you won, but what if you _hadn't_?"

Shinji rolled his shoulders, and then extended his legs to stretch. "Then we wouldn't be alive to give a damn. I'm not going to say that I'm sorry, because that would be a lie."

Her hand slammed down on the bench, and she leaned forward in an attempt to be imposing. Shinji grinned ruthlessly at her. He was right, and if he had retreated, then he wouldn't have had time to sortie again before the Angel reached the geofront, and that would just leave a nice, wide-open path for the next angel. Even if Rei's reactivation tests were scheduled in three day's time, there would not be a way to block up the path of Shamsiel in time.

"What do you think your duty is?" Such a loud bellow, even so it paled before Shuriken's volume.

"To defeat the Angels and protect NERV central. My duty is most definitely _not_ to survive what will come. When Judgment calls, all answer."

She missed the significance of that statement, and Shinji reminded himself that she was not someone who knew him. She was not someone he could trust.

Katsuragi slapped him. The blow barely registered, had she tried to break a foot-thick wall of titanium with her bare hands it would have achieved more physical effect. Reflexively, he rolled with the blow, twisting so that he brought his calf into her ankles, tripping her.

"I suggest you don't attack me," Shinji grinned widely, "as you don't want your only active pilot, temporary as that uniqueness of status may be, in the hospital when another Messenger comes to call."

His remarks had infuriated her. "Go to your residence. This… discussion will be finished later."

Shinji banished back to its corner the raging killer. "You've just redefined the term discussion Captain. And off I go!"

He rose, and stepped out the door. The guard unlocked the cuffs, carefully avoiding Shinji's vacant eyes, and returned to his position. Shinji left the building, heading to his apartment, never hearing the last comment from the Captain. "What is he _on_?"

--

Shinji stopped outside his door. Something was here… something familiar…

He smirked. Shuriken had come after all! The key-card slid through the lock, and he pushed the door open. His shoes made no sound as they hit the floor, and his bare feet made less as he slid silently into his residence.

It was an old game, whoever could touch the other without being touched was the winner. He drew in the Power, wreathing the parts of the rooms Shuriken hadn't managed to get in it. Entirely to mask their aura's from each other, trying to find a specific piece of hay in a haystack would have been simpler than locating each other with the Power now was. Shuriken had all the advantages now, any angle of attack she desired, she now knew the enclosure as well as he did, and for all he knew, she could be in her True Form.

She had done something to the lighting as well, where it had once been dim, now it was impenetrable, not even the _thought_ of light was left. Shinji shut his eyes; her sense of smell was much better than his, and her hearing only mildly less acute. Which meant the only thing he could do was be reactive.

He hated being reactive.

Shinji folded his legs as he seated himself directly in the center of the room, making sure to rustle his clothes so she knew where he was. He had no doubt that she was going to win, but he had no intention of making it easy on her.

She breathed too loudly. That was her major fault, though any normal person wouldn't have detected it, Shinji wasn't normal. The intake of breath shivered softly to his right side, she had gotten better at hiding her breathing since the last time he had seen her. The next exhalation/inhalation was closer, and Shinji waited for an instant before thrusting his hand straight up into the air. His fingers brushed along a shoulder, an instant after her hand tapped the side of his head.

Shinji opened his eyes and stood, releasing the Power as Shuriken did the same. The room was almost blindingly bright in comparison to the utter darkness, almost dark enough to hear it, that had been a moment earlier. He stared into a pair of black eyes, framed by a pale face, topped by shoulder-length dark auburn dreadlocks.

"Shin," she greeted blandly, then flicked her wrist toward him. Shinji caught the object, and walked to the wall behind her before placing it. It was a milky-white spider, and the last in a series of the objects that would disable any listening or observing devices. He rotated the head once it was attached, and it slowly took on a tan hue, becoming almost invisible against the wall.

Almost before he'd let go he was tackled from behind with an enthusiastic hug around the waist of greeting, accompanied by a happy shout, " 'Dachi!"

Shinji turned and hugged her back. "Shuriken!" His shout, while subdued was just as happy.

Classic Shuriken, she hopped backward. Don't stay with people long enough for them to hurt you. A smirk adorned her black-painted lips. "Shall we… paint the town red?"

Shinji caught the hidden meaning, and bared his teeth in a wolfish grin. His bag rested against the wall, and his hands twitched as they reached out for it. He snatched everything from the bag except the nodachi and scimitars. Unembarrassed he stripped out of his clothes, strapping weapons onto his body in every conceivable position, and trotted to the dresser. Out came the red shirt and black pants, and on they went. He turned to Shuriken, dressed in her disturbing dark purple and equally dark blue stalking suit, and gestured for her to lead the way.

"What _is_ in your hair?" Shinji tugged at it, feeling the crusty consistency that came from either too much gel or…

"LCL, methinks."

"Does it hurt?" Some old jokes could remain funny. Shuriken had just killed this one.

"… Whatever you say _Shuriken_."

"Exactly Nodachi. Glad to know that you haven't quite forgotten who's better here."

Shinji snapped back, his irritation at the synch tests overcoming him for an instant. "Just because you have all of _two days_ more of the Ancient One's tutelage doesn't mean you're better than I am!"

Shuriken, if nothing else, knew when to back off from Shinji when he was pissed. "Sure 'Dachi." Her tanned hand pushed the door open. Shinji shouldered his duffle, and followed her out.

--

The knife slithered in and out of the man's throat, drawing a garish red-lipped smile from one ear to the other.

"That was clumsy, Shuriken." Shinji's voice floated from the stairs.

"Shut _up_! You know I prefer throwing things." Shinji smirked back as she gave him her patented glare-o-death. Finally, she remembered how to annoy him, and walked over to huggle Shinji.

Shinji made a sound somewhere between, "ACK!" and "GRRRCK!" before reminding her why it was a bad idea to huggle him. He rapped her sharply on the head with his fist, brass knuckles and all. Her eyes did the sort of unfocused swirling of the dazed that _always_ managed to annoy her. She didn't like being dizzy. Know yourself and your enemy, and you shall never lose. Too bad they knew you just as well…

Shuriken punched him in the stomach, blasting the air from his lungs.

"What was that for?" Very mild, considering that she had just nearly slammed him into a wall. Or it could be the fact that he hadn't quite recovered his breath.

"Now is not the time for your introspective moments, 'Dachi. In case you hadn't noticed, the only reason they haven't blown the shit out of this building is because they think some of them are still in here." In a hushed snarl she added, "Family gangs have to be the worst."

Shinji's tongue flickered out over his dry lips as his mouth curved in pure delight. Pretty, pretty red, painting his hands crimson; trickling down his blade, spraying from ruptured arteries…

Shuriken recognized the look on his face, and inwardly groaned. Not one of these moods again…

Shinji began to move toward the stairs, his eyes staring straight ahead without seeing the world. His body seemed to flow through the unnaturally thick air surrounding him, never quite touching anything. His smile now barely twitched his lips as his hands drew one of his sidearms and primed it. Quite a shame that all the quad-filament wire was still with the Ancient One… The muzzle of the gun aimed directly at the wall for an instant before he applied pressure to the trigger.

The weapon barked once, and heated steel slashed through the decaying plaster wall. Shinji continued up the stairs, listening to the music of the man's screaming. _That _was music he could dance to.

Maybe the gangsters could too? Well, if not he could show them. Shinji flipped the gun around and used the butt to smash out a window. He wasn't quite conscious of the fact that Shuriken wasn't following him, but rather still on the ground floor, hovering near the stuck-shut front door. Glass tinkled as it shattered further on the pavement below, drawing the small crowd's attention to it, and then upward to the source.

What met their eyes was not one of their family, as they had hoped, but rather the business side of a handgun. Three flashes, three miniature explosions, and one of the mob fell dead, the other two screaming their last moments of life as they desperately tried to keep what was supposed to stay inside them inside. Puddles of crimson formed below the once-men. The remains of the broken life stared at the corpses for a moment before simultaneously moving to pick them up to remove them.

Shinji slithered onto the windowsill, taking part of his mind to make sure his bag didn't catch on the frame. His hands re-holstered the pistol, and he flicked his wrists. From the long sleeves of his shirt, the switchblades dropped into his palms. An audible "snick" echoed through the near-silent alley as the blades reached for air after their long imprisonment. Shinji dropped from the window, giggling as he awaited the two-floors distant earth to rise enough so they could have a more intimate acquaintance.

One of the men looked up, having heard the clack of the weapons uncovering. Two silver streaks in the midst of a burgundy and black greater streak, widened by the dark green bag hovering sideways behind the creature's back. Drawn by a sort of morbid fascination that comes when one has accepted their death, he found it intensely ironic that gutter-scum would be exhumed by such a lovely specimen of what they desired to become.

For a moment he pondered what it was that could make the being's hair float around its face so ethereally, what it was that could make its clothes stand out, patches of utter blackness against the tapestry of shadows the moon painted on.

And then he stopped worrying about what would happen when he died, stopped wondering if there was an afterlife. For he found out. Yet he could no more tell this to any whom still cared, just as all who had gone before him had been unable.

Shinji whirled, steel flashing luminously in the light of Luna. Stars, the moon, and Shuriken would be the only witnesses allowed to leave the scene tonight. If it had been possible, Shinji would have limited even that to merely Shuriken, but alas, he no more had power over the heavens than he understood the mind of a hormonal female.

So instead he lost himself the rain of crimson, bathed in it, removing the filth that was the taint of his father, if for just one short moment.

End of Chapter 

*Looks back at the last page or so of the chapter.* Hell, did _I_ write that? O_o

Anyway, praise, flame, roast, burn, print out and put on a pedestal, host it on your site, as you wish, or as you wish not. It is three-thirty in the morning here… time to sleep.


	5. The Prodigal Son Or Not

evaunit-01(ranma-tomoe)—smoke! Frying laptops! Indeed, coolness. Loosing fics, badness. (meaning not goodness rather than "uber-cool!") Scripts are more descriptive? How could that be? *wonders* ah, well, thankiies. Good scripts those. That or I use the stick of my lollypop!

Lita of Jupiter—The result of writing it at three in the morning is indeed dark. Ancient One, I know where he is now… Shinji's true form… I'm holding onto that secret for a little while more.

C^rrot—Yep, Shuri has made her debut. She won't be incredibly major… she's just there for Shinji's moral support. Oh. Wait. Shinji's amoral. Well… she's there so I can show just _how_ messed up the two are. ^_^ The chapter originally had 'Mistress!' tacked onto the end… yes, I think taking it off was a good idea. Don't worry… I'm betting the Magi are flammable… *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Yep, Gendo-kun and Mis-chan are going to be surprised by what he burns… but I like Rei-chan…

Ranshin—Insane freak standing by! Thank you? I think… Nope, just friends. Brother and sister if anything. Actually… they might think of themselves that way… Well, the way I'm using it is that they know each other so well, they understand the depths of the other's mind so completely, that they cannot understand what it is like to be two consciousness, each in their own body, rather than one consciousness in two (or rather, four bodies… *hint-hint*). Make any sense? They feel like they are one being, separated, split, broken, anything else that describes the making of more things from one thing, rather than two beings joined. Yeah, don't worry if you don't get it.

someone—Dark? Might be considered so, but I don't particularly think most of it is. Maybe the fact that I was typing at three AM made me a little depressed… continuing! Ja, mien fürer!

A/N: Well, I was lazy in starting this one… indeed, very sorry, sessha is. I know I'm never going to be as popular as many other authors here are, but I'm okay with that… geez, this isn't supposed to be my ranting about life, I'm stopping now. Oh, I'm going to point out that around angels 10-15 there's going to be some mind-stuff. I'm going to try to stay with the light-hearted feel, but… it _is_ going to be there. Preemptive warning here.

||||||||||

Ocean Red

Chapter 5: The Prodigal Son… or Not.

A Neo Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shuriken jerked hard on the makeshift dressing, knowing that while it would hurt Shinji, he wouldn't care. Well, he might, but if he did it would only be to enjoy it. She glared at him, and he grinned back. Damn him.

"Nodachi you idiot! How the hell did you get your arm cut open with that mesh your clothes are made of?"

Shinji smiled back at her like he was stoned. "I rolled up my sleeves."

Shuriken belted him in the jaw. "I am _so_ not doing your laundry! I'm staying in your apartment, yes, but your laundry is yours!"

Shinji nodded somewhat meekly. Fear the Wrath of Shuriken. "Ja mein Führer, Mistress Shuriken!"

Shuriken belted him in the jaw again, harder, almost bruising her knuckles. She was rewarded with Shinji nearly collapsing, and doing the swirly-eyed thing that annoyed her. For some inane reason he always seemed to enjoy it. It was just Shinji being Shinji.

She was surprised when his fist, brass knuckles on again, crashed into her stomach. "Like you said, this isn't the time for self introspection. We've apparently chosen this place as our territory, now defend it we must."

Shuriken laughed. "What do you care if some code of ethics demands that we defend what we have taken in a contest of strength?"

He blinked. "The code of ethics that requires we do this transcends the boundaries of race, gender, and species. It is the law of survival for the society, those who have must stand on the backs of those who have not, else they would fall and society would collapse. Without teachers those who become scientists or developers would not have been taught. Without garbage people the world would be a dumping ground and we would not be able to have our society. Without ecology activists, we would have long since consumed natural resources instead of arguing with them, and man would be on the verge of self-destruction. The lone wolf must be allowed to roam free, else he might slay the Alpha male of the pack, and throw the wolves into chaos."

Shuriken smacked him upside the head, sending him sprawling into a wall. "For someone who professes total ignorance, you seem to know a lot."

Shinji pried himself off the dirty plaster. "For someone who professes to be above mankind, you sure don't have problems resorting to their most simplistic way of dealing with things."

She grabbed his hair and pulled back to stare into his eyes. "What was that?"

"You seem to enjoy violence despite calling yourself above man." He replied cheerfully. Shinji didn't have very much tact.

Shuriken emphasized each word with a resounding crash, caused by Shinji's head forcibly meeting the wall. "I. Am. Above. Man. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Shuriken."

She dropped him. "Good. If we must defend this abysmal place, then we should scout out the best locations for ambushing. I do not like this building, it is far too old, and seems likely to crumble at the merest nudge." A few moments ago, she would have been exaggerating. However, Shinji reached out and pushed on the wall he had become intimately acquainted with, and it fell to dust. He sighed, and looked like someone had kicked his dog, if he had cared about dogs. Dogs were not cool, mean things they were. Cats on the other hand, cats were good. All they asked was food, and a little affection, and that they be let roam free. Cats were the very definition of 'cool'.

Shuriken introduced her fist into his ear while he was distracted, forgetting again that hitting his head would have approximately the effect of hitting an anvil with a hammer made of wood. Yes, Shinji had a very dense skull. She sucked on her knuckles as Shinji looked up, his eyes not focusing properly, and his head tilted at an angle.

"Hello! Go look for an ambushing spot! Male Living Weapons… I swear…" She trailed off into incoherent mutterings.

Shinji stood, reached out to snatch up his bag, and left through the hole in the wall, showing no signs that he had been the cause of the hole, other than somewhat dusty hair. He dropped a switchblade into his palm, noting that it shone brightly in the darkness, and once again wondered why he kept his weapons highly polished. Then again, as the Ancient One was so fond of telling people, "I'm not an assassin, Damnit! I'm a professional killer! Say it with me, pro-fess-ion-al kill-er! Professional Killer! Do you hear the word assassin in there anywhere?" Yes, that could be it. He didn't work in the shadows exclusively; he worked wherever he felt like working… that was the difference.

He stepped sideways without bothering to break his momentum, avoiding the clumsy haymaker as the first drops of rain fell. He did bother, however, to break the would-be assailant's arm before he continued on his way, rain splattering against hair spiked with dried blood and LCL, running in rivers down his face, seeming to express the tears he would never again shed.

Shinji snorted. Bull. He wouldn't shed tears because no one deserved tears to be shed over them. Pain was his next-best friend, Death an intimate acquaintance, War practically his lover, and Annihilation his servant. What so many fools had said about themselves was indeed true for him, Heaven didn't want him and Hell was afraid he'd take over.

Water streamed down his shirt, both inside and out, utterly soaking him. His pants shed droplets of water almost before they landed, and never did he notice. His eyes focused on the approaching alley, it was within what he and Shuriken had inadvertently claimed as their territory, and well lit enough to be seen in, while dark enough so that his features would be obscured. A single droplet of water fell from his nose, taking with it grime and blood, he hadn't yet cleaned his face, and almost every exposed inch of him had been soaked in crimson life. His clothes didn't like blood, and didn't let it adhere to them. Soon only his hair would stand as silent testimony to the not-living existences he had removed.

Someone stepped into the alley behind him, taking him for an easy mark. Assuming him to be a middle-class child, carrying money and something valuable. Perhaps the son of someone who would earn enough to pay a healthy ransom.

Shinji's trade was in things far more valuable, this man's life for instance. The instant the man placed a hand on Shinji's shoulder, his fate was sealed. Anyone who trains to fight must first think about what his opponent was doing to react.

Shinji didn't need that instant of thought. He spun, tearing free of the man's grasp, and slicing across his throat cleanly. The man made a loud gurgle, his scarred and pitted face showing disbelief and disgust. The man's sorrowful dark brown eyes met Shinji's joyful cobalt ones, and he read what was there without any trouble. Shinji showed his victims the truth as they died, that they died to purify the world.

Shinji stepped over the corpse, the rain washing his blade clean. He crossed the street, singing quietly a song of pain, death, and betrayal. He would simply eliminate any who tried to kill him… and in doing so would prove that Section 2 really was full of incompetent goons who couldn't assassinate or even fight their way out of a wet paper bag.

He pushed open the door to a building that had probably once been some sort of theater, the door nearly rusted shut possibly having been an emergency exit. All of which really didn't matter to Shinji, only that the enclosed space was warm, and that he was no longer feeling so tired. He sat in one of the derelict seats, which promptly sank underneath his weight, and sighed. He was going on three days without sleep now. Nothing compared to the two weeks that the Ancient One had made him go before letting him even _begin _to _attempt_ to access the power. Each try after that had cost a week without sleep. The old ass had made him go nearly five weeks before his Naming Ceremony. Said it was to make him a 'proper Weapon,' aka, someone who could listen to the voices in his head without caring, someone who could ignore pain, someone who was loyal to his master, but loved no one. The bastard had succeeded in all respects.

Shinji dropped the switchblade into its housing hidden by his sleeve again, and unzipped his bag. From it he drew the nodachi, sheathed as it was in the way that left almost half the blade bare. It wasn't a proper sheathe, having been mutilated by the Shuriken, and Shinji had never bothered getting a new one. He removed what was left of the leather cover, stowed it, and tested the edge on the seat. Effortlessly it cut through.

He detected a slight rustling noise from above. His senses kicked into overdrive, and he was abruptly aware that he had crossed the invisible line between his new territory and someone else's the second he'd stepped into the theater. He stood, smiling like an idiot, and started to walk away. Someone clad in blue and green stepped from behind the counter to bar his way.

Shinji gave him three seconds before the nodachi danced in and through his throat. A sharp tug to the side half-severed the head, and Shinji half-turned, smiling at the stage. He jammed the tip of the sword into the floor, praying it wouldn't sink too deep, and drew a sidearm. A boy, certainly no older than fifteen, stepped in front of him, and heard nothing before he died.

Of the four members of the gang that were in the building, three died of natural causes and one ran away.

(: :)

Shinji shifted slightly on his stone-like seat. Shuriken had dragged him off to a place she had called, "An excellent ambush position." She had, of course, chosen to put him in the most uncomfortable spot possible… but that wasn't his problem. His problem was that he was now stuck to the seat. Frozen there with the Power. Shuriken had done it to make sure he couldn't wander off.

The Power let him go so suddenly that he fell off the wall. Which meant that someone had entered the range of the contingency woven into the binding. All of which meant nothing to Shinji, as he was currently trying to pry his face from the unforgiving asphalt. He managed to jerk his head up, incidentally ramming the back of his skull into someone's groin. The someone fell.

Shinji failed to notice this, and stood calmly. The first thing he saw was an almost solid arc of light curving toward him. His had shot out, and he caught the approaching chain with his forearm. He swore. Badly. That was going to leave a mark.

He twisted his wrist once more, adding another curl to the spiral of chain around his arm, and jerked it free from the man. The slingshot force of the tug sent the chain whipping behind his head, where the man he had accidentally head-butted was just regaining his feet. The chain made sure he would never worry about this again, or anything else. Or even be able to worry, as it tore through his skull rather bloodily. Shinji finally noticed this.

"Ahh, hell. Shuriken's gonna be pissed. Told me not to crush anyone's skull…" Distractedly, more worried about Shuriken's Wrath, which was such an ominous event that it did indeed deserve to be capitalized, he whirled the chain back around, watching wrap around the man's neck, and jerked. Hard.

The snap echoed loudly in the alley. Shinji pulled the chain in, and wrapped it around his arm. Armor and a weapon!

He shrugged it off, and started away, forgetting that he'd just created two more deaths in a world where life was a scarce commodity.

Shinji fingered his wristband, wondering if he should remove it… for safety from Shuriken's Wrath.

Shuriken popped up in front of him.

"GAHH!" Shinji tried to punch her in the stomach reflexively. Unfortunately for him, Shuriken had been expecting this, and had put a thick plate of metal in the way.

She got several laughs from seeing him jumping around shouting various expletives, and waving his hand around like a mad-man. Of course, that was only after she'd caught her breath, as Shinji had managed to dent the metal, testament to why he was proficient with close-combat weapons over throwing ones. She threw a rock at him, nailing him in the head. As a result, he slipped, planting 'face seeds' in the earth. Shuriken stared.

Shinji moaned and attempted to get up.

--

Shinji peeked out the window. It wasn't that there was anyone there; it was that there wasn't that was disturbing him. He could _feel_ someone, more open to the Power than he had been in weeks, but he couldn't see anyone. Someone moved in the darkness, a flash of gold, a brief glimpse of a face, eyes hidden by sunglasses.

Shinji cursed softly.

"Shuriken." Couldn't be too loud. _They _might hear. "Take my shit. I don't want to be persecuted for killing NERV personnel." He stripped off his armaments, sans one switchblade, and stored them carefully into his bag.

Shuriken took them carefully, knowing full well what would happen if the bag was treated badly. And knowing that his towel was in there. Her towel was still at his apartment, because she had very little emotional attachment to hers, merely using it, and nothing more. Still she appreciated Shinji's love of his towel, if it did disturb her a bit.

Shinji pulled himself out onto the windowsill where he sat, waiting to be noticed. As he kicked his feet, he felt something. His hand dove into the pocket sewn onto his pants. A-HA! His lighter!

He took it out, merely gazing at it for a moment. It was silver, the paint having worn off long ago, and rectangular. His thumb ran over the symbol on it, a Russian hammer and sickle in the center of Japan's flag. It was beautiful to his eyes.

He stuck his hand back into the pocket, and came out with a small cloth. The lighter flicked open, and the malicious flame burst into life at a swift motion of his finger. The corner of the soft cotton dipped into the orange flame, stealing part of its life, before Shinji killed it by shutting the lid. He glanced down at the man below, and then at the flaming cloth in his hand. Distractedly, he replaced the lighter, and watched, entranced as the cotton turned to ash and floated away. He dropped the cloth, watching it fall to the street, where the dancing light revealed the man in the shadows. Shinji jumped off the window, plummeting like a can of soda, waiting to be crushed upon landing. Lazily he rotated in mid-air until he crashed feet-first into the concrete. He clenched his hands, seriously considering lunging for the suit's throat.

He stood, smiled vacantly, and held out his hands.

(: :)

Wow. A new record. At least, a new record while away from the Ancient One. Unless you counted his 'visits' to the police station.

Nevertheless, apart from any public law officials or sadistic torturers who called themselves trainers and succeeded damn well in doing so, this was a new record. In all of his visits to NERV after the last angel, Shinji Ikari had been handcuffed. Of course, this time it was more than one pair, three to be exact. And a pair of sturdy chains bound his upper arms to his sides.

Yes, Shinji Ikari was satisfied with his treatment. It reminded him of what he knew as his home. Except he wasn't chained to a three hundred pound weight. Yet, the atmosphere inside the room, his Commandant's office, reminded him of the numerous trips to his second home. The Chamber.

When Misato spoke, her voice was chillier than the coldest block of ice. "Why were you in the seventeenth sector Pilot Ikari?"

Hundreds of half-truths, outright lies, and twists filled Shinji's mind, yet he chose to go with the first one that he thought of. "I was bored."

"You were ordered to return to your residence."

Twist the knife, use her words, and hatred cause. "I did so. Then I left."

Ice no longer, the flames of Hades did burn. "Who the hell gave you permission to leave!?"

Lips parted, teeth flashed. "You never specified how long I had to stay at my apartment."

And let the brain fry. "I shouldn't fucking have to! You should learn your place Pilot!"

Be the ocean, let it pass over you and through you, and remain unmoved. "I know my place. It is located in the worst part of the city. I know my other place as well, Pilot of Evangelion Unit 01. Daddy dearest wouldn't call me unless he couldn't use anyone else. Thus, indispensable I am." Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, though dull they were. Distracted, as if listening to something not-quite-there.

"Kill her. She closes on the truth. She must die. You do not know this woman, she is an interloper, she is not one of you, she is not Shuriken, she is not Saber, she is not Wakizashi, she is not Dagger, she is not Kodachi. She is not Gunn, she is not Dart, she is not Katar, she is not Weapon, she is not one of us. Her life means nothing, and yet you allow her to threaten all of us? She is an Oathkeeper. One of those we are sworn to break. KILL HER!"

Through the masking pain of resisting the Ancient One's compulsion, Shinji felt something pop in his arm. Good, pain, localized… He seized upon it, letting the delicious warmth of the dislocated shoulder flow through him, pretty as the blood that washed him clean, pure as the wails of the dying newborn infant, lovely as the soulless eyes of the dead…

Shinji looked up. Misato had asked him why he was so sure that his father would use him as only a last resort. "That should be obvious, shouldn't it? He had to go through some not exactly clean channels to actually find me… I thought he would have at least given you the correct information. Did he give you a falsified profile, or did he not bother giving you my profile at all?"

Raven hair fell in front of Misato's face. That was enough of an answer for Shinji.

He stood, and stepped toward the door. "Where the hell are you going?"

Shinji turned, smiled, and skipped backward. "To my apartment I go, I go, to my apartment I go! From underground to overearth, to my apartment I go-oh!"

--

Shinji stepped into the stairwell, turned, and waved directly to a Section 2 officer. It wasn't that the man was bad, no, by ordinary standards he was quite good.

He just breathed too damn loud.

Shinji rubbed his wrists. They didn't exactly hurt, but they did feel weird. There had to have been some sort of numbing solution on the cuffs. His door was open. Unsurprising, he hadn't bothered to lock it. He opened it, and stepped inside. He shut the door, kicked off his shoes, and turned to look at the inside of the entryway. On the wall, directly beneath the switch to turn on an empty light socket, someone had taped a slip of paper.

Shinji glanced at it, and then away.

Then he spun back to it. It was coded, of course, but this wasn't from Shuriken. No, this was written out like a recipe, for some sort of messed up Cheese-Steak Chicken Noodle soup. He paled, and turned to look at his bed. On it rested the one thing he had expected, a single black briefcase.

As if possessed of a stronger will than his own, his hands approached the case. It had no apparent latches, locks, or other ways of being opened, yet within seconds, before Shinji's trained fingers, it split into two.

Inside was a uniform, and a note.****

**Hey Shinji.**

**If you're reading this… what a corny opening line, neh? Nevertheless, it is true. One of two things may have happened, you know what one is. The other? You're needed. Shuriken and Kodachi should be receiving theirs as well, but you don't know Kodachi. You got the true not, you understand what is happening here. Hell, you're probably at the center of the problem.**

**Well, we've screwed up. Got caught. I'd love to put a line here saying something like 'your mission, if you choose to accept it…' but that would just be fragging stupid. Get your ass out here now. Active Duty is what they're technically on, but you know what that means.**

There was no signature, and the paper was from an ancient typewriter. It wasn't exactly paper either, more like a thin slice of wood. There was literally no way of tracing it unless you knew whom it had come from.

Shinji stripped out of his other uniform. Once he stood clad in merely his boxers, he lifted the first article from the case. Midnight-blue pants unrolled, imperfectly pressed. He noticed, with mixed fear and irritation, that the pants were a little too long. Yes, the woman was evil. The belt slid through a small buckle, and then curved over and behind itself. The silver buckle shone against the malachite cloth, bringing back unpleasant memories. The unpleasant memories, however, were far outweighed by the pleasant ones. A jade green shirt went on first, which was slightly too small. Not enough to be worthy of complaining about, but still, it wasn't comfortable. Very evil. Over that he pulled a silver embroidered cobalt button-up dress shirt. He found the second to last items in the case, a pair of sleek mid-calf length boots, the only things that looked remotely new. These he pulled on, tucking the ends of his pants into them. Over all of this he drew a grey ankle length raincoat. Yep, it was going to rain tonight.

Either they had a sixth sense, or they scheduled these on purpose.

End of Chapter 

A/N:… umm… I'm not going to detail what goes on there for a while. I just wanted to ask if anyone caught the Deep Dive reference. First part of the chapter was started after midnight, finished a few days later at nine pm.

Praise, flame, char-broil, set on a pedestal, print it out and use it for firewood… *is too tired to continue*


	6. The Beast

Arizosa--*doesn't know it, yet flourishes anyway*

C^rrot—pedestal _and fire? Even better! More interesting, you say? Cool. Heh… no, they're not going to enter… unless Itichie provides permission… I just referenced to them. You need to find a video clip of Deep Dive. Or better yet, download one of them (best are SomewhereTheyBelong, and Kingdom Hearts 2 – Sleep) from AnimeMusicVideos.org. Better songs they are… and the songs make it cooler. And unless you happen to own a copy of Kingdom Hearts Final Mix…  only way you're going to get them. Utter comicalness is half the goal of S&S. the other half is showing that insane people are indeed occasionally smarter than the uninsane. What, you people thought I'd write something without some ulterior motive?_

Magnus-sama—not merely insane. Thankiies.

Optimus Magnus—proud of it. Take one twist tie, curl into spring shape. Draw through cocaine, bind both sides quickly. Throw into blender. Puree for five minutes. This is what I do before starting to write. J/K.

Lita of Jupiter—indeed… you found a plot! Quick, tell me! .

Ranshin—Good. Me=clumsy and crazy. ^_^ Go ahead, post it if you want. I do, however, want to know where this site is…

A/N: Has anyone else seen the music video for The One I Love Is? 'tis… good. No other words. Yes, it is that good. And this is going to be long. _Very _long. Why, you ask? For the reason that I want it to be. Grr… ah, hell, you want a real reason? So I have a reason to live through this next school year if I don't finish before then. Good enough? Gah! I've figured out who the Ancient One _really is! No, he's not a Self Insert. His name is… Taeleth. I doodled a picture in a notebook, and that's how I know. Whaaat? Oh, I would like to mention that if you e-mail a review and don't want me to mention it in the fic, tell me not to. I like people, most of the time, and it's not my goal to embarrass you, okay?_

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Ocean Red

Chapter 6: The Beast

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji wrinkled his nose. The rain really stank of renewal. From what the Ancient One had told him, it hadn't done so before Second Impact. Then, to quote the man, _"It used to smell like the Gods were crying tears of blood for the sins of man. It smelled like Paradise Lost, like the flesh of the damned. Pity it will never be the same." He had refused to elaborate further. Yiss, the Ancient One was a tad bit freaky. His interests did reflect within Shinji's, but… whatever. It wasn't important._

Shinji missed the fact that a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, _"He hasn't affected you… he merely awoke you from the bindings others placed on you…"_

His raincoat was twisted slightly, annoying the heck out of him. But seeing as how he was hanging from a brick and plaster wall four floors above the solid concrete -- and more importantly Shuriken was below him -- there was nothing he could really do. Yet, he had his bag, and his towel. Life was good.

He pulled himself up to the small gash in the grey wall that served as his window. He kicked his legs up to the gash and slid in half-sideways, half-backwards. He almost got stuck as he tried to get his upper torso through, but managed it somehow. 

Shinji landed on all fours, or, more specifically, his fingers and toes. For a moment he held the position, watching as beads of sweat dripped from his face, and then rolled to his right as Shuriken squirmed in. His bag landed on his gut, making him grunt slightly, and then stand up. He ran his left hand through his somewhat damp hair, and then shook his head.

Shinji turned, to be met with Shuriken's left jab. The blow caused him to stumble, landing on his bed. Shuriken raised her eyebrows.

"For _shame Nodachi! Didn't see that coming?"_

Shinji frowned. Not so much in displeasure as because that was what he felt he should do.

Shinji stopped frowning. When had he ever done what he "should do", after all? He started to turn away, careful to leave his right foot planted as his left entered a sweeping motion.

He didn't bother stopping, continuing with the pivot to backhand Shuriken across the back of her skull. She stumbled, lost her footing, crashed awkwardly into a forward roll, and came up holding a dulled throwing star.

Shuriken twisted her hips, sliding her right foot outward and forward to give herself a better 'platform', and hurled the object. Shinji's newest weapon slashed around, batting aside the projectile and then whipping in to curl around his arm.

Shuriken, already halfway across the room, adapted. Instead of performing a flying tackle, as she would have ordinarily, she dropped into a sliding sweep kick that took Shinji to the floor. On her stomach she forced herself into a pushup with enough force to bring her high enough to get her feet solidly planted.

What she had not expected was Shinji to have tossed his bag up, and thus was utterly shocked when it landed with a clunk on her head. She stumbled into his bed, and flopped onto it. It was a couple more seconds before the bag hit the floor, and by then Shinji had regained his feet. His left hand curled around her corresponding ankle, the smooth leather feeling quite odd to the touch, and applied gentle traction until she fell from the bed.

As soon as the material disappeared from under her, Shuriken reflexively threw out her hands, catching herself on the knife-edge of her palms. Her free foot cocked, and then slammed outward into Shinji's ankle, knocking it out of position so that he smashed heavily onto his right side. Unfortunately, for both, this twisted him enough to have the effect of trapping her ankle beneath his knee.

While no means was it permissible to say that Shinji was weak or thin, and indeed he was of slightly more than average muscle size, his knees had little of this to cushion them. Fortunately, he was still wearing his boots, and they padded the impact somewhat. Keyword being "somewhat". Shuriken's boot took most of the rest of the blow, yet it still managed to jar his kneecap and her ankle painfully. He was damn lucky that his kneecap didn't slip. He'd never bothered learning how to actually _fix the injuries he caused, on the principal that if he hurt someone, he would be too busy finishing them off or laughing too hard to repair the wound. Shuriken had honestly tried to learn Healing, but the Ancient One provided little to no information on the subject. It wasn't his job to fix them up; it was his job to rip them apart. _

When he was finished, it was time for the next stage. Into the Survival Room they were dumped. 

The Survival Room had a distinct terror that hung around it. It had little to nothing to do with helping them survive, and everything to do with trying to make sure that they didn't. Of course they had, otherwise instead of being in Tokyo-3, they would be scattered around the room. "Room" wasn't a good word for it either, as it was much too big. It was like someone had taken pieces of various landscapes and jammed them into one area, totaling about the size of six square football fields, before roofing over them. The only thing that made it different from said area was the fact that it had been constructed underground. None of which mattered at this point, however, and after taking less than half a second to catch their breath, both moved.

Shinji performed what would have been half of a cartwheel, if he'd used his hands. Instead he propped himself up on his shoulders and finished with a sinuous motion that moved his feet to the floor and his body over them, with a small twist so that he ended up facing the opposite direction. Somehow during the full-bodied motion he'd managed to snag his bag, and from within he drew the straight-sword. He turned to face Shuriken, lowering himself into a mix of a reverse-hard stance and a standard square horse stance. He flicked the blade through the air, and it spun on a horizontal axis until his left hand caught it. Being ambidextrous was definitely a marked advantage.

Meanwhile, Shuriken had snatched the edge of the bed and forced herself into a handstand on it before falling to her feet, facing almost a full one hundred thirty-five degrees away from Nodachi. Nimble fingers danced into sheathes located in various strategic points on her form, withdrawing another shuriken and one of her three close combat weapons. At the same time as she brought her hands into a guard position, now holding her weapons, she cross-stepped with her right leg behind her left, and whirled to face Nodachi. Instead of a reverse stance, or even any stance at all, she held herself in a loose position with her arms draped close to her sides. Her hair, rinsed clean with rain, fell limply around her head.

Shinji snapped his wrist, dropping a switchblade into his palm, and flicking it open. His eyes lazily drifted shut, and he swayed slightly. Five days now. Shit, the last time he had pulled a no-sleep stint this long had been when the Ancient One had dumped him in the wasteland that was where the old Circus of the Mentally Fucked Up, as he privately referred to it, had been located. Now it was a forsaken desert of ash. That he'd been without food and water were the only differences. That and he had been in his Soul form then.

His eyes snapped wide as he heard the whistle of another projectile. This time it was no blunted weapon, and he took it to his arm, where it lodged between two of the links in the chain.

"That was clumsy, Nodachi. Are you honestly that pathetic? Are you not supposed to be the savior of humanity?" Shuriken apparently missed the irony there.

"No, I'm the Savior of Destruction," he spat. "My interests in the matter of these Angels are purely for self-preservation. Humanity can go screw itself." He lunged, the longer blade flashing out, darting, twisting, and generally trusting Shuriken to avoid the blade rather than pull the blows before they hit.

Shuriken laughed a laugh of pure glee as she danced around the weapon, her empty hand snatching another shuriken, styled after a dart this time, as her blade, a twin of Nodachi's straight sword, merely slightly shorter, deflected the switchblade. She flicked the dart up toward Nodachi's face, and then whirled away, not watching him, trusting him to avoid the weapon. Once again her hand snuck out a 'throwing star', and she gripped it in an almost closed fist to prevent herself from slicing her hand open. Not that she would have minded, unlike Nodachi, who would have gone out of his way to do it, but the blood would loosen her grip on the weapons… and that would be bad. Nodachi was not sympathetic. She jumped, and slammed her foot into the wall, bouncing off, and landing on the bed.

Shinji smirked, moving in the smallest increment possible to avoid the thrown weapon. His eyes involuntarily tracked its path, and calculating where it would stick into the ceiling for a moment distracted him. As such, he let the chance to thwack Shuriken most excellently go past unheeded. When he finally turned, she was just about to kick off the wall. He tossed the switchblade up, heard the thunk as it buried itself in the ceiling, and whirled his arm out, flinging the chain at Shuriken's ankles.

Unfortunately for her, she still hadn't had time to adjust to this new weapon, and thusly didn't quite dodge in time. One of her feet got out of the way, but the other was tangled up. Nodachi jerked viciously, ripping her feet out from under her. She caught herself on one hand, and then realized that it was a bad idea. Had she not caught herself, she would have landed on the mattress.

But she had, and when Shinji jerked again, he pulled her off, slamming the point of her jaw into the floor. She curled into a defensive fetal ball, her sword-dagger gripped across her stomach. Her other hand flicked the shuriken up, sending it in the direction of the taught chain, which twirled her, trying to stretch her out for a first blood strike.

That was unacceptable to Shuriken. Nothing less than total victory was.

Of course, the same was true for Nodachi. Get a grip, hold on, and don't let go. The "bulldog" way of going at things, as many people called it. Odd, since neither of them were remotely canine. If anything, Nodachi was saurian, and Shuriken feline. Nevertheless, that was what they did, and what they did they did well.

Unfortunately for their grades, this was just about anything _but_ school. Shinji had repeatedly had a C average, and Shuriken a D+. Which was not to say that they were illiterate. They just didn't like to apply literacy. Because, in their ever humble opinion, book knowledge was stupid. What was the good of knowing something that didn't keep you alive, after all?

Of course, none of these thoughts registered within their minds, as they were too busy trying to draw first blood from each other.

Shinji sidestepped to get out of the way of the projectile, managing to ignore it this time, and stepped in with a left to right strike akin to a stab, trying to break flesh at her neck. Then the shuriken fell.

After a moment of utter stillness, both moved, Shinji with a trail of blood down his cheek, and Shuriken with a thin gash along the back of her neck.

Simultaneously they announced to each other, "You look like shit."

--

Shinji fell into his seat, pressing his head to his desk, having still had no sleep. He wasn't used to this anymore. Having gone a month with a regular sleeping schedule, he was no longer used to being awake for any amount of time longer than three or so days.

And here he was, trying to avoid being bored into slumber by the teacher. Oh, joy. He gave up, and mentally waved a white flag before closing his eyes.

Seconds later they popped open as someone smacked him around the back of the head with a bitch-slap. Gods, no sleep for Shinji. He settled into a comfortable position, and managed to slip one of his earphones in without anyone noticing.

The heavy metal that poured into his ears kept him awake, at least. Though it was headache inducing.

He ignored the message windows that popped up, asking if he; A: was single, B: could introduce them to whoever chose pilots, and C: if he would tell where he'd gotten the piercing in his left eyebrow. There were, of course, others, but those were the most asked. And the first that popped up on his screen.

An innumerable number of songs later, mostly because Shinji couldn't tell the difference between them, the bell rang for PE.

His sneakers scuffed the tile as he hauled himself in the direction of the lockers. Evil PE. Couldn't even start a general brawl. It was physical… and most definitely educational. Pshh, such a stupid school. Not even a localized lesson at the school of Shinji's Fists.

How depressing.

He hadn't realized that while his somewhat bored into-almost-halting thought process that he'd managed to change and get out onto the PE court. Didn't realize, actually, until the basketball bounced off his head hard, knocking him back several steps and swished through the hoop. He shook his head, sending his hair whipping around his head in thin trails, drawing eerie traces in the air as they caught both the light off of the sun, and the reflections from his eyebrow ring. The item now residing inside his ear made an odd swishing noise as the movements made it do things that it didn't normally. Rapid back and forth was not it's good part. Sudden jars, bouncing, abrupt movement, these were all normal for it. Shinji was merely moving his head a little too fast.****

People appeared to notice, and he observed this. A few seconds passed before he came up with a plan.

He stumbled around the court a little before flopping down onto the gravel, apparently unconscious. Shinji mentally clapped himself on the back. Not only would he dodge questions about his speed and why the ball hadn't knocked him out, but also he had a somewhat legit excuse to ditch PE.

Joy.

--

Shinji ducked as the Captain's arm slammed into the wall. His amused fear turned entirely to amusement as he spotted the way her eyes were almost bulging, a vein in her head was twitching, her hair was nearly flying around her skull, and her teeth were creaking with the force of her clenched jaw. He tried to make a cowed "eep", but it came out more along the lines of "heehp!" Ah, yes, the forced love of oppression. Trouble causing.

He remembered a pair of books he'd snatched from the Ancient One, which were now back on the old man's shelf. _Brave New World and __1984. Such wonderful books. Dictatorship through rewards and total power through punishment. How like the world today. __The Prince had been interesting, but he'd only achieved the third chapter before Shinji had become bored with the style of writing. These he had read before he'd reached the Power for the first time, and he didn't have anything better to do._

Who gave a damn about France way back when? Admittedly, in one of his old teacher's opinions, Joan de Arc's only saving grace was detaching France from England before the "cowardlyness" had spread. Of course, the man was biased, hating everything French, and being an Englishman. Honestly, that had been too long ago for Shinji to care about.

None of which really passed through his mind, in favor of studying the way the Captain's face was twisted. It was quite fascinating, really, the way the flesh was stretched and twisted. Shinji made a mental note to attempt to recreate the image the next time he had a proper "canvas".

"You left." The Captain's eye twitched. "Why did you leave?"

Her voice was strained, yet she kept it soft. Ahh, she was angry then. Well, might as well royally piss her off…

"Some things are often not to be spoken of. Cheese is one of these things. Have you cut any recently?" Insidious Insinuation. Well, no. Just a poor attempt at it. A "dead to the world" look took over Shinji's eyes as he stared at the ceiling corner behind the Captain. Approximately four pounds of C4 to blast a hole in it. Wouldn't call it a structural failure, exactly.

Pink face. Nice face. Not a cheery face, but a face. An angry face. Not quite what he'd wanted, but close. He wanted infuriation. Push a little more then.****

"Speaking of which, have you ever worn a shirt with "Guess" across the front? And if so, did you get someone random coming up to you and saying, 'Implants'?" His mind cheered him on with chants of "Low blow!" Shinji smiled maliciously at her.

Ahh, there, the clenched white knuckles. And the sound of an empty grinder crushing itself into powder. Her teeth had to hurt. Ah-ha! A new goal. Make the Captain's teeth be ground into perfect smoothness. This would take time and careful planning…

The Captain, at a loss for words, resorted to Shuriken's way of dealing with these things, and belted him across his cheek. Shinji continued to sit, his head twisted. It hadn't been a very hard blow, to Shinji, but he had been recently reminded that most people could not, normally, take the force of a thirty-two inch television dropped from three stories without collapsing, falling unconscious, and feeling like general shit. So he acted like it had hurt. Not too much, but enough for him to be somewhat normal.

Of course, this was Shinji. And his way of dealing with pain was not "normal" any more than his tolerance for it. So when he started laughing, and deliberately prodding the point of impact, it was understandable that the Captain backed away. His torso, neck, and head twisted sinuously as he turned to look up at the woman. As he dropped into a crouch, coiling his legs underneath him, his hands clawed and his eyelids half-closed.

For a moment Katsuragi actually thought he was going to attack her. Already she was prepared to draw and fire. And yet, in the next moment, Shinji had moved into a standing position that only gave away his earlier actions by the popping of his knees. Not that he had weak knees, or anything. It was just that his knees didn't like to be silent unless he told them to. Odd knees, his.

With distracted eyes Shinji sat back down on the bench. The bars of his pathetic cell cast shadows across his face, static shadows that refused to move. For a few moments, he considered breaking the light, and dropping the others into his element.

He didn't. Too much risk of disarmament and discovery that way. To wander around this world without weapons was suicide. Not that any of those who worked for NERV knew this, they were too "concerned" for the safety of humanity to care or know about the garbage towns of the world. Towns being communities, not actually the strictly literal definition in that context. Not that he believed that NERV cared, but they had to keep up appearances. And the good appearance they desired was best kept by pretending to care about humans.

Which was not to say that _some_ of the NERVians didn't actually care. Just that the Commander didn't. And as the Commander, Gendo Ikari (formerly Rokobungi) was too smart to let the caring NERVians actually find out what he was doing. Which lead Shinji to the logical conclusion that the man didn't care.

A conclusion that had been reinforced when he looked back at the many years in which he had been forsaken by his… "Father".

All of which were conclusions that he had already come to several days ago, and now only briefly flashed through his mind. What he felt was more important was when the man had gone from merely being an object of dislike, to article of his hatred. This was not something he felt was a good thing. He should not have been capable of hatred so mild.

However, he was distracted by the sound of the cage gate shutting. He didn't spare it a second glance, instead cupping his hand over his left ear. The foreign body within detected the differentiating pressure, and activated fully.

For a brief instant, he was tortured with too loud elevator music, before it connected.

In a voice so soft it was almost sub-vocal, Shinji began to speak. "Ouuu, Shuriken… do make sure that no one takes my stuff. I'm in confinement. You see, apparently NERV doesn't like me disappearing all the time. Perhaps a lesson is due sometime soon to them, but… our dear Ancient One ordered us not to be revealed. And so did _They_. So, take care of my stuff, wouldja?"

A biting, sarcastic, and somehow honest voice popped back at him. "No _duh, Nodachi. Like I would just let anyone take your stuff. No one needs to know about your anti-tech bombs and other stuff."_

"Thanks Shuri. Knew I could count on you." Immediately after, he popped the communicator back off, rather than hear Shuri rant about how she was in no manner reliable, let alone helpful. It was just that, she would continue, she didn't need to be found, and that his anti-tech bombs in the wrong hands would be bad. The wrong hands being any but theirs.

Shinji yawned, and decided to catch up on sleep. He shut his eyes, and lay back on the bench before drifting off.

END CHAPTER 

Sorry 'bout the wait. First, I was out of town. Then I came back, did some work, left again. Now I'm back with company, and have to read _The Prince. Blech. School=evil. This chapter had no immediately evident purpose, yet I have a vague outline for the angels, so all's goodness. Flame, Praise, Print out and shredder before burning, print out and place on pedestal, print out and place on pedestal before burning, etc. 'tis all welcome.****_


	7. Father And Son

Arizosa—pretty pretty flames, consuming the self, scalding the all. Yep yep yep. How odd though, that I didn't get a notification that you'd reviewed… O_o

C^rrot—oops… I'll take that as a compliment I suppose… but sorry 'bout your keyboard…

Lita of Jupiter—darn. Ah, well… *makes note that in the future to place a "do not try this at home" disclaimer*. Someone likes Shuri, someone likes Shuri… *excited*

**Disclaimer:** Wow. This one still does not own Gainax. Or Evangelion. Or NERV, or any part thereof. If you do not know this simple fact… then this isn't going to help any. Therefore, don't flame me, capiche? Nor do I own The Living Weapon. My new golden toilet, however…****

Author's random musings that are skippable if you want to read the story: 

Absolutely Lovely. My home computer now has a wonderful thing known as a virus. I'm ever so thankful to whoever programmed it. I'm not sure what it does though, as there have been no ill effects yet. So, this one will keep you people updated. School starts August Thirteenth for me; so after expect a slightly longer delay between chapters. Oh, and if you haven't read _Politically Correct Bedtime Stories, _do so, now. Mmm… bottle caps… And many thanks to my editor.__

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Ocean Red

Chapter 7: Father and Son

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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Shinji's hands released the crossbar of his wimpy cell that he'd been using to exercise. He didn't know if he even _could_ get out of shape, but he didn't feel like risking it. And he could always get in better shape. Reverse sit-ups were not _that_ much better than normal sit-ups, yet helped with arm strength. He yawned, stretched, and began entering the next stage of his workout, but was interrupted when the door slid open.

Alarmingly, the light threw the tattoos across his bare torso into focus. The elaborate design originated at the lower edge of his sternum, then curled around his shoulders, and spread down his back, before curving back up to terminate in tendrils racing up into his hair. However, in the intensely fluorescent light, it was difficult to decipher how much of the tattoo was ink and how much was where his thoroughly defined muscle cast shadows in the awkwardly placed lighting.

Despite only having been in the chamber two days, Shinji had already lost most of his tan, becoming almost as pale as Rei. He hadn't showered, or indeed done anything hygienic, in all that time. Thus, his hair was greasy, and lying back along his skull, tied into possibly the shortest ponytail in the history of hairdos. And he smelled, of sweat and blood where he had sustained minor injuries to various parts of his body. Like where he had scraped his knuckles -- quite deliberately -- while using the bench as an elevated pushup brace. The wound was already well on the way to healing, but he hadn't even bothered to wipe off the blood, so now his hands were covered in his crusty red life.

The nameless, faceless, clone of a NERV security agent stood in the light, revealing nothing but his profile to the eyes. Black suit, sunglasses, hair cut in the standard military fashion… couldn't NERV get a little imagination? When a "secret" organization, under the control of the UN -- at least in theory -- was reduced to copying the American Secret Service… that was bad. Extremely so. Stupid NERV.

"The Commander requests your presence in his office, Pilot Ikari," the Agent told him in the normally monotonic voice. "I will escort you."

Shinji extended a hand, and snatched up his shirt from where he had thrown it. He tugged it on, but didn't button it. If, as he expected, he was going to come back here, there was no point wasting the energy. So instead he stepped up to the clone, and stared at him. Not a threatening stare, just an "I-have-nothing-else-to-do" ' stare.

A few minutes into the staring contest, Shinji said, in a cherry manner: "Well then…shall we go? Wouldn't want to break my record of being late for dates…"

To his credit, the molded clone didn't seem to be disturbed by Shinji. This was surprising, but only for a moment. The man wasn't impressive in any way, sans the fact that he seemed to have been re-programmed by NERV's conditioning. Which was only impressive because NERV didn't have a reputation for being able to mind wipe people. Which was a good thing, he supposed. You didn't want your enemies to know anything about you, but if you had no choice, it was far better for them to know the more harmless of your secrets. Clever-clever, Gendo Ikari…

Shinji's not-quite-musings were cut short by the agent grabbing him by the hair to drag him along. How utterly unimpressive that his father had to resort to bullies. Then again, that might have been the point of the overgrown bully, to make people underestimate him. Lovely. Not only did he have an asshole for a father; he had a _smartass asshole for a father._

Well, the man would just have to die, and that was that. Stupid bastard.

Ahh, well, such was life. It gave you lemons. Some people made lemonade. Shinji flung the lemons back into life's face with a shout of, "Keep your damn lemons! I wanted bananas!"

Figuratively speaking, of course.

--

This was odd. The old hag who was generally known as Gendo wasn't saying anything. Just sitting there, staring at him behind those shades of his, his hands folded over his mouth to hide any expression that he might have. Okay, Shinji could handle that.

…

…

Or not. Shinji sat down on the floor, and began to fiddle with his shoelaces. Shoelaces were fun…

He unlaced one sneaker and began to play with the string. Practicing various knots, one handed, with the lace around his other wrist. Even if he knew nothing else to do with healing, he knew the basics of a tourniquet. Not that he had the necessary materials, unless he wanted to rip his shirt apart… nope. Mostly because he didn't feel like dragging himself off to a mall to shop for a replacement. Yes, he was lazy. And the mall was too damn loud for his oversensitive ears.

He hadn't noticed that there was several NERV security guards standing near the door. A mistake for which the Ancient One would have chewed him up in their private arena for, had he been there to witness it. Fortunately he wasn't. Unfortunately, by the time Shinji noticed, he could do nothing more than react, as they were attempting to, at least in Shinji's mind, test him.

This was one of the reasons that NERV often renewed the life insurance policies of their employees.

Shinji latched onto the nearest man's arm, rolled around to his back, and rose to his feet to pull the man into a hammerlock. Without missing a beat, he pushed further, and heard the distinctive noises of a joint being dislocated, and a bone breaking. Accompanied by a beautiful scream, of course.

His cobalt eyes glinted as he swung the man into another, and felt the arm nearly come off in his hands.

Releasing the arm, Shinji dropped his weight, denying another man permission to lift him. Shinji smashed his elbows down into the man's wrists, and heard a delicious wail of agony as the points of his elbows crushed the man's radial nerves. He spun, grabbed the back of the man's head, and introduced it rudely to his knee. The man's nose spurted blood as he staggered away.

A fourth mindless beasts made the mistake of launching a blow to Shinji's back. It didn't hurt enough to be disabling, but the kinetic energy of the attack pushed him forward. However, this left both Shinji and the half-man in a perfect position for a back kick. An opportunity Shinji didn't let escape, and subsequently felt his sneaker collapse the man's ribcage.

He turned to the remaining three, who were, if not intelligent, at least wise enough to be cautious.

One stood closest, and Shinji moved.

No one would know, how in the instant their eyes met, that the man had seen Shinji's eyes change, from that of an insane child to the perfect bloodlust that held the truth of his insignificance. In that millisecond he saw how little he meant to the world, the universe, and even the boy who was about to kill him.

And then he was falling backwards; clawing at his throat where his windpipe had collapsed beneath the spearhand Shinji had dealt him.

Shinji continued his wild dash, already putting the men who had fallen before him out of his mind, their deaths he could bathe in the memories of later. The second-to-last almost-man had started to throw a clumsy haymaker at Shinji, who completely ignored the blow, other than ducking slightly to get under it, and crashed a full-bodied tackle into the creature's midsection. The wind blasted out of him, he fell. Shinji skidded to a halt, and stared at the being for a second before lifting his foot and crushing it into the man's neck, hearing a very satisfying snap.

Yet this display that took up the sadist's attention for the merest moment was enough to allow the final once-man to gain a stranglehold on his neck. Shinji pouted as he latched onto the man's elbow with his left hand, and sidestepped in the same direction. His right arm drove an elbow into the man's gut, and then his fist crashed into the man's crotch with a hammer-like blow. The man whimpered, and fell**.**

Without allowing him to hit the ground, Shinji delivered a devastating kick to his head that not only sent him nearly flying backward, but also caved his skull in.

Shinji rotated on the spot, looking at the bodies around him, living as well as the dead.

And he began to laugh. Not insanely, not hysterically, but a true, genuine laugh. As if he had just heard one of the funniest jokes in the world, not as if he had just killed his best friend, and was laughing to rid himself of the reality of his act.

And Gendo Ikari sat, a small smile adorning his lips.

Yes… the boy was perfect…

Had the man been able to cry, a tear of joy at the discovery of his son's perfection would have leaked from his eye.

--

Shinji poked his head into the firing range/armory. Lovely, lovely place.

He began to explore the racks of weapons, finding so many more than he had been aware existed. The Ancient One could have recognized them all, but he didn't own all that many firearms. Something to do with not having proper credentials, and not being able to prove his date of birth to obtain said credentials. Not that he didn't have a birth certificate, but rather that it was far too old to be accepted as legitimate.

Shinji lifted one of the automatics from its stand, and plucked out a clip for it. It took him approximately seven seconds to get to the range where he would shoot from, and by that time he'd already figured out how to prime the rifle. He manually chambered the first round, flicked off the safety, took aim, and proceeded to pepper the circular target with lead. He discarded the weapon absentmindedly, yet carefully and respectfully. The weapon was good, yes, and a MP5, so it was reputable. But the recoil wasn't enough, and he tended to overcompensate. 

After retrieving some sort of sniper rifle or other, he made his way to the range made for it. The scope on it was, he had to admit, impressive. Far more than the antique World War II age rifle the Ancient One possessed. Still, though it was a wonderful weapon, and he dearly wanted one (after seeing it blow a fist-sized hole in wooden dummy's head, with normal ammunition, he was practically in love with the thing) it wasn't suited for close-quarters combat. And, well, what NERV wanted him to do would definitely require fighting inside buildings. And hell, it wasn't like he could bring along any of _his_ weapons, for he feared losing them. For the contract people signed with NERV, which he hadn't, stated clearly that anything the person owned belonged to NERV. And forging someone's signature wasn't all that difficult.

NERV had not become so successful by purely legitimate means.

No one became successful by following the law to the letter.

Shinji slid the firearm into its position on the wall, and walked away. For some reason he felt the hair on the back of his neck rising…

--

Shuriken sat on the wall that enclosed Tokyo-3 Junior High, wondering when, more if than when, actually, she would register for school. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. Nodachi couldn't skip school too often and running the shadows of the city by herself was dull. It was seeing her other half's bloodlust sated that was half the pleasure she took in it. The other half was her bloodlust being satisfied. Then there were the various other, random things that made it fun, but they really didn't factor in as much.

The Ancient One had taught them control and she had been more successful at learning that than Nodachi. He, on the other hand, had managed to surpass her in subtlety, a bewildering and very irksome fact. She was well aware that Nodachi had an equal amount of things to envy in her, and so kept her temper down.

She hopped off the wall, shaking her head. Stupidly introspective moments were Nodachi's job, not hers. She turned, and started back to the apartment complex, fully aware of the people in the shadows following her.

Well, if they wanted to die…

She'd just have to oblige them, wouldn't she?

--

Shinji yawned as he stepped into his apartment. It had taken him forever to find the right weapon and he hadn't even been able to bring it home. He pouted. Stupid "no-removal-of weapons-from-NERV-grounds-unless-specifically-given-permission" rule. He couldn't even steal a couple clips…not that he didn't have some, but in excess is always better than in insufficient quantities. Unless the variable in question is blatant stupidity.

He stopped abruptly.  The apartment… it was too quiet. Shuriken was _never_ that quiet.

Well, wasn't that just fine and dandy? Shuriken had his stuff, and Shuriken wasn't there. Grr.

He trotted over to his bed, and collapsed into it.

Shinji noted the door opening and someone entering before he fell asleep.

Shuriken glanced up as she entered. The damn… thing upstairs had arrived back. It wasn't a Living Weapon, and was certainly not human… completely. And whatever the hell it was, the water refused to say.

Stupid water. Pretending to be a peaceful mirror.

Hiding the predator.

God in heaven, Nodachi was making _her introspective. Damn him._

She peered at his comatose form and a grin that would have scared Nodachi himself, had he seen it, spread across her face.

Yay. Thank the royal chicken that she'd stopped off at the grocery store.

Out came the whipped cream and mayonnaise.

But first…

Shuriken drew the final weapon. The shaving cream and razor.

She went about her work gleefully, telling Shinji in her special way that if he ever got snatched by NERV again, and, more importantly, made her take care of his stuff, he would pay worse than this.

--

When Shinji woke, it was to the unpleasant, clammy sensation that can only be brought about with food condiments. He stood up, wrinkling his nose, and wondered where Shuriken was. This would not go unpunished.

Unfortunately, she was nowhere in sight. Or in the reach of any other sense, for that matter. His eyes narrowed, and he marched off to the bathroom. It took him approximately four minutes to realize that Shuriken had nearly shaved his head bald. After his initial reaction of outrage, he decided that it felt more natural to have short hair than long, and set off to hunt her down.

To… thank her. In a… thankful way. How unusual, words of thanks… words he used to spook people. Nothing was creepier in school than the kid with tattoos and piercings coming up to you and thanking you at random. Well, nothing that wouldn't get Shinji expelled.

Which was not important at this point, and Shinji wasn't going to dwell on it for too long. He had people to see, things to do, and… things to set on fire. Or rather, he would, as soon as he found his lighter. Where was the damn thing?

Into his bag he dove, efficiently sorting through the items there. Not in the bag… Shinji hopped over to the dresser, and began to tear through it. Nope, not there either…

Ah-ha. He crawled under his bed, peering into the dark mists that could only be defined as… misty. And dusty.

There, in the corner. Shinji squirmed over to the glint of light, though how it was glinting in his apartment was a worthy question. Yes, it was his lighter.

Unfortunately, when he snatched it up, he forgot that he was under the bed, and tried to stand up. Needless to say, it didn't work all that well.

After a moment or two of lying absolutely still, stunned by the impact with the steel frame, Shinji began to wriggle out of the confined space. He almost managed to escape the clutches of the bed, but then the lighter slipped out of his grip, and skidded off to the wall. Absolutely lovely.

On fingers and toes, and sneezing loudly, Shinji began to inch his way back to the fire starter. As soon as he was in reach, his hand lashed out almost unnaturally quickly, and squeezed the lighter. Once again, he began to leave the bed's hateful space. As the lighter popped out of his hand, and whizzed across the room to slide under the dresser, Shinji cursed the fact that it was so smooth.

Having freed himself from the bed, at last, he scurried over to the dresser, and pushed it aside. Beneath were his lighter… and a nest of spiders. Immediately, he backed away, and began to bow to them, muttering words of almost worship. As spiders will do, the eight-legged arachnids looked at him oddly before scattering.

Shinji promptly jumped up and retrieved his lighter, hastily shoving it into his pocket before it could escape again, and proceeded to stomp on the insect-like things. The spiders screamed as he crushed them underneath his sneakers, and made a very satisfying crunching sound as they squished. In a last attempt at escape, the two remaining arachnids skittered off toward a crack in the wall.

Promptly, Shinji snatched up the nearest object, and flung it at them. It didn't take him long to realize that what he had just thrown was the case to one of his favorite CDs. And worse yet, it had his CD in it…

He leapt after it, and almost caught it as they both crashed into the floor. He landed on a spider, and the case flattened the other one. However, unlike him, the case kept sliding, and bounced off the wall.

Worriedly he opened it…

To find that the CD in question was in his Discman.

And he could only think, well then…I must find some cheese.

--

Shinji slid into his seat, and pulled it toward the desk. Which, by divine intervention, hadn't yet fallen apart…

"IKARI!" Or perhaps the intervention of the Class Rep. Upon closer inspection, the desk seemed to be held together by superglue. Well, that explained how it refused to be destroyed. Hmm… perhaps his lighter would be sufficient. Make it an inferno… yiss, that would be pretty…

"What the hell did you do to your desk?"

The wrath of Hikari Horaki, on par with the Ancient One's ire… almost. Hëil Horaki!

"Err… it wasn't me?"

Wrong thing to say. "_OUTSIDE! BUCKETS! NOW!"_

Without hesitation, he rushed out of the classroom. The buckets were already full… The girl was a telepath! There was… well, someone else could have been about to use the buckets. To hell with them!

Shinji picked up the buckets, and stood silently.

Right up until he felt Shuriken enter the building. A slightly twisted smile curled his lips as he turned to glare vengefully down the hall to where Shuriken was. His head slowly turned as she approached. A mental count started, beginning at fifty and counting down with every step Shuriken took.

At zero, she passed, a smirk curving her blue-painted lips.

Shinji made a sound like, "oumpheh," as she elbowed him in the ribs, and he had to perform a complicated dance to prevent spillage from his buckets. A single drop trickled over the edge, falling with an impossibly loud smash to the planks that made up the floor. Shinji winced as he prepared for the inevitable shout of indignation that would follow the sound. There was none.

Shinji stood still, his conscience not bothering to speak up and be ignored again. No need to go add another drop of water.

A few minutes later, he heard the expected "_BUCKETS! NOW!_" directed at, who else, Shuriken.

As she settled in next to him, he smirked at her.

She kicked him in the ankle.

An extensive hop-skip, dance, and several curses later, he managed to kick her back.

And so they settled into a comfortable routine of kicking each other in various places to make the other drop their bucket first.

--

When the two homicidal maniacs limped into the class after lunch, few people noticed. Or rather, noticed obviously. Until Hikari bellowed something nonsensical that made her sound like a wounded hippopotamus when they deemed it safe to ogle the pair. It wasn't so much the fact that they were limping, or the fact that both had bruises around their lower legs, Shuriken's were much more obvious in her skirt, as the fact that they were smirking.

Deviously.

Perhaps it was also the fact that they didn't acknowledge the pain that had to come from the rather extensive bruises. A small red stain decorated Shinji's ankle, perhaps indicating an open wound. If it was, he showed nothing of the pain. It took more than that to make him show it.

It took more than that to make him enjoy it.

END CHAPTER 

Well, there we are. Stupid chapter…

Space filler! Worry not, for next chapter, _"Der__ Engel"_!

So, umm… do whatever you wish with it. ^__^


	8. Ace of Diamonds

Lita of Jupiter – drowning in cheese… such a wonderfully horrible death. *quickly checks disclaimer* Ancient One? With SIBLINGS? I fear what would happen… notice that Hikari seems like Hitler? O_o;;

C^rrot – funny flaming cheese… mmm… I remember a dish called flaming cheese or something, it was good. I think. Hikari's hair is too cute! Well… no, I just think it would be difficult to rip out pigtails. Heh… And yes, Gendo is a sick, twisted, cold-hearted bastard.

RichardRahl -- Crazy indeed, Monsieur Rahl. I suspect you like the Sword of Truth? Your name should be marked for spoilers, you know. ^_^ I'm fairly sure you haven't reviewed yet. Fairly sure. I'd have to check, and I'm a lazy jackass. ^__^ Oh, and breathe man, breathe. Can't have my reviewers dying on me…

Arizosa—Yep. Gendo ain't just a cold hearted bastard… he's a sadistic cold hearted bastard! Mmm… revelry…

Shinji-Ikari—not merely psycho.

Ghost140--… I… don't make you laugh…? Ah, well, inspiring fear is good.

**Disclaimer: **I dost not owneth this Evangelion you speak of. Copyright infringements are not my job. Lawyer is in that direction (--), speak with him. You are not seeing the copyright infringements… you are not seeing the copyright infringements… Oh, crap, hypnosis doesn't work over the internet, does it?

Author's incoherent babbling:

Where did you go, Raiden X? Oh, where oh, where can you be? Lunatic Calm needs finishing, I tell ye! And the Purple Knight… and umm… other stuff too! Just like most of the original Eva writers have disappeared, at least from FF.N… it is saddening to see that. Ah, well, that isn't really important right now. And not what you are here for, am I not right? Anyway, school is teh suck. So, umm… being so late… direct death threats to mpw_mania@yahoo.com. If that doesn't show up like usual, then to my e-mail. Which may or may not be listed in my profile.

In other news, I don't think anyone noticed that I never mention Shinji eating… well… he forgets to. Yep. He only eats at school basically… and when… other stuff forces him to. Yepyepyep.

www.doacentral.com

**_"Man's unfailing capacity to believe what he would prefer to be true, rather than what the evidence shows to be likely and possible has always astounded me. We long for a caring, forgiving universe that will save us from our childish mistakes, and despite mountains of evidence to the contrary, we will pin all hope on the slimmest of doubts.  
  
God has not been proven NOT to exist, therefore, he must exist."  
-Academician Prokhor Zakharov_**

||||||||||

Ocean Red

Chapter 8: Ace of Diamonds

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

||||||||||

Shinji craned his neck to peer backward over the stone, his hands wrapped loosely around the gun in his hands. Splashes of bright red across the arena bore testament to the fury of the fight.

He tapped the gun against his palm idly, considering whether or not to change the clip, before sinking back into a squatting position. His hand slid into his pouch, digging for a new magazine, and then switching it calmly with his current one. A satisfying click came from the arm as the case popped into place.

Shinji counted mentally, as far as he could count, that being around fifty. Immediately he slithered around the rock, keeping the bulk of his body out of the view of the gateway to the labyrinth.

Nothing came from the entry, but that didn't mean there was no one there. Shinji kept his head low as he dragged himself through the dirt, relying on his ears more than his eyes to check for danger. Failure was literally not an option.

His fingers twitched, barely refraining from squeezing the trigger tight enough to fire as his he turned his head to the side and pressed his ear to the earthen surface.

…

Absolutely nothing.

Within a second he had gained his feet enough that a headlong sprint was well within his capabilities, and was halfway across the distance to the portal.

The ground behind him exploded in a shower of dirt.

Dud.

He dove into a roll, coming up on his back as he half-slid into the corridor, his hands already swiveling to his left, preparing for attack.

None came.

Shinji stood, dusted himself off, and glanced down the hall. A bus-length down it broke into three paths, the one he was on, one directly perpendicular to the one he was on, and one slightly off center from both. His eyes screwed up in concentration as he considered which to choose.

The primary point for an ambush would be the one perpendicular…

So the ambush would be set up in the off center area.

Shinji dropped slightly, bending forward enough that he managed to halve his height. He slid forward, carefully submerging the sound of his breath into the sound of the air vents. Eons of being hunted by perfectly stealthy creatures had taught humans an impeccable instinct for finding spots of utter silence.

So the first thing in learning stealth was to learn how to blend in with the background, rather than disappear. Anyone that didn't…

There was a reason it was first on the curriculum.

Shinji slid around the corner, barely checking for opposition as he passed the first antechamber. There was nothing there.

He continued, leveling his weapon at the nearest side-passage. His pupils dilated with intensity as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream.

The shadow halted before it rounded the corner, weapon leveled.

Shinji cursed his hands as they shook slightly. Beta-blockers would have come in handy…

As it was, Shinji abruptly lunged into a feet-first slide, firing blindly into the passage.

And then his vision was painted red.

--

Shinji yawned as he stepped out of the shower rooms, what remained of his hair sticking up wildly from its vigorous drying. Cobalt eyes gleamed with excitement as he dressed quickly, returning to a pair of dark blue, almost black, jeans and a lurid silver shirt. Over this he drew a jean-jacket.

He made a mental note to never. Ever. Let _anyone_ shop for him again. Shuriken would pay for that. Silver was an evil color… too reflective… and shiny… He did have to give her credit for introducing him to Hawaiian shirts though. Too damn cool.

His hand went involuntarily to his pocket, checking for his lighter. Upon finding it safe and sound, he tugged it out and began flicking it open and closed. Deft fingers darted through the motions of lighting the tiny flame without actually doing so. His eyes half-shut with contentment as he felt the familiar lines of the burner, felt the immense power contained within.

The Greedy Element contained within.

Shinji struck the flame, holding it before his eyes, standing still as he watched it dance, suspended above the stainless steel of the flame canister.

Simple combustion, the most basic of chemical reactions, heat and fuel make flame. Simple and deadly, flame and fuel make firestorms. Firestorms and people spelled… firestorms and people, but cause death. Death, destruction, doom, and havoc.

Yay.

Shinji walked smack into a door, so intent on the tiny life in his hands, falling flat on his ass. Undeterred, he stood, dusting himself off, and shoved the door open, absentmindedly jamming the extinguished lighter back into his pocket.

In one glance he surveyed the room, crowded with people, anywhere from half to twice his age. Faces looked back at him, foreigners, children that could have been his classmates, pre-pubescent younglings that could have been his siblings.

All flushed faces.

He seated himself in the middle, placing himself at both a disadvantage, in that he could not view the entire room at once, and showing his dismissal by the same token. Shinji's disdain for these people knew no bounds.

A pudgy man stepped up to the podium, the eyes of a child behind his rosy-lensed glasses. By the obvious bulge beneath his jacket, he was showing that yes, he was armed, and that no, he didn't care if anyone knew it. He tapped the microphone, and Shinji almost visibly winced at the screech that came with it, trying his absolute best to ignore the way the man's layers of flesh wobbled with every motion. The way the man's hands drifted toward his belt, and more specifically the sidearm, which Shinji took careful note of, being careful to straighten his posture.

In a trembling, yet somehow resonant voice the obese man began, "And the results are…

"Shinji Ikari in first place with ten kills.

"Kaworu Nagisa in second place with nine kills.

"Shogo Kawada in third place with nine kills and one team kill.

"Mitsuko Souma in fourth place with eight kills.

"And in fifth place… Noriko Nakagawa with six kills.

"That is all. Winners, remain after dismissal for your prizes. This concludes the Tournament."

Shinji smirked easily as hateful stares were fired his way from everyone else. He yawned boredly as various obscene gestures were sent to accompany the stares. So immersed was he in their hate that he failed to notice the unusual glances sent his way by Nagisa.

Had he been paying attention at all, he would have noticed the predatory look in the boy's eyes. A glint of hunger within eyes of blood.

Yet he was not paying attention to that. He was watching the hate, floating in it. Sucking it from the room, draining it to sustain himself.

Nagisa stretched, and trotted over to Shinji, with an unnatural spring in his step. "Hello."

Shinji turned, rolling his head down and up to stare at the boy. "Hallo."

Nagisa smirked, and with a slightly sardonic quirk of his lips tossed, "I suppose a congratulation is in order. After all, you're the only person to ever beat me. Next time, mind, you will lose," at Shinji.

Shinji uncurled himself from his seat, rising to stare into the other boy's eyes. As his feet unconsciously spread slightly beyond shoulder width, he lifted a finger to poke Nagisa in the sternum. "I wish nothing upon you but hell."

Nagisa frowned, and drew his lips back to reveal not-quite white, not-quite straight teeth. Immediately his left hand came up in an attempt to trap Shinji's finger against his chest, to find himself groping at air. Having been unable to contain the reflex motion, he watched as his other hand leapt for the child's throat.

Shinji whipped his hand off Nagisa's chest as the hand tried to snatch his finger. Skill the albino had… Speed he did not. In a continuation of the same movement, Shinji drew a circle in the air with his hand, and slapped the pasty fingers away from his neck. The boy wasn't bad, per se, but he was just so slow…

"Boys. Break it up. Now."

There was such a commanding nature hidden beneath the malleable exterior. The sponsor was indeed quite odd.

Shinji turned, grinned his dumbass grin, and nodded cheerfully. He skipped over to the man, ignoring the stare of complete astonishment that overtook Nagisa's face, and dropped into a seat. As the older man's eye twitched violently at the rampantly disordered splaying of his limbs across the ordered chairs, he took on a vapid look of unconcern.

"As champion, Ikari gets five hundred, the agreed upon percentage, and a standing invitation to all future tournaments, free.

"Second place, Nagisa, receives three hundred.

"Third place, Kawada, wins two hundred. For his breach of conduct, involving the shooting of a teammate, he is penalized fifty.

"Fourth place, Souma, achieved one hundred fifty.

"Fifth place, Nakagawa, obtains one hundred.

"This concludes the Ninth Tournament. We welcome you back whenever you choose to come."

Shinji popped out of his seat, bowed deeply enough that it was perfectly obvious he was mocking everyone in the room, and skipped out, his jacket almost flowing around him. As he disappeared around the door, there was a resounding crash, a curse, and the janitor went skidding past the door, as if Shinji had flung him forcibly. But as the janitor had to weigh two hundred pounds, at least, it was impossible.

--

The door creaked open to admit Shinji, whose radiance was almost painful in the darkness.

He slammed the door behind him, listening to the crash that accompanied Shuriken falling off the newly erected cot. It wasn't a very good cot, requiring extreme care in balancing it, and was probably the invention of the Ancient One himself, intended solely to piss off his pupils. And it worked too. Shuriken's bellows of rage that echoed around the more or less abandoned complex testified to that fact.

Shortly, Shinji pelted out of the apartment, vaulted over the rail, and fell the five stories to land on the concrete. His knees protested loudly at his attempt to stand, and he cringed slightly at the echoing crack from where his lighter had hit the ground. Stupid jacket…

As a pair of rocks ricocheted off the concrete to his left, Shinji decided that yes, this was a bad place to be in, and that yes, he was going to run his ass off. Well, he amended as his hand missed the first snatch for the lighter as he leapt away, as soon as he returned for the burner. With a complex series of motions, that in the end did nothing but look really cool, he turned around and dashed the other way, catching the lighter and scampering like a rabbit running from… well… another rabbit. It was forgivable though, the other rabbit had ballistic weaponry, and he was unarmed. Much like he would have been in a battle of wits. The other rabbit being Shuriken, who was doing an excellent job of dropping from floor-to-floor, as she vaguely recalled seeing in some movie or other.

Shinji vaulted into the next building, busy thanking everything he knew of that Shuriken had he obsession with flashiness, which would buy him a few seconds here and there. Unfortunately, Shuriken was still armed, demonstrated when a knife skidded over the side of his hair, to bury itself deep in the wall. He nodded blithely to himself, and skittered through the nearest door to escape.

As the wall between him and Shuri, he wondered somewhat panicked where she had found the arm strength to put a kunai through the wall. He stopped caring as the next kunai managed to stick in his jacket, barely missing the lighter, and bolted through a door.

Or so he thought. In reality, he'd missed the door by about four inches, and crashed through the glass next to it. How glass, something Shuriken found valuable, managed to survive the aging process was beyond her, but Destroying Nodachi, an endeavor that most certainly deserved capitalization, was more important at the moment.

She failed to notice the black-suited man trying desperately to catch up, futile though his attempt may have been.

--

Kaworu stepped through the revolving door, and then to entertain himself, spent the next fifteen minutes trying to slam it shut. Not that he had nothing else to do; he just didn't want to do them. Besides… nothing was impossible, right?

Finally, as he began to get slightly more violent with the door, he stopped, his eyes spread wide enough to swallow dinner plates, and stopped breathing. He slowly forced his eyes shut, and reached for the fullness inside him. Instead he found raw hatred and anger. He shrank away from it, drawing his mental defenses close.

No. Anger was bad. Anger was the root of punishment. Anger was pain. Anger was despair. Anger was not what he wanted. Anger was hell.

Kaworu turned and ran. He needed his room; he needed the steel walls, the electric cage, and the bed of glass. Tears threatened his eyes, and never fell. They could not, would not fall. After all, tears were anger.

With a great mental heave, Kaworu flung his thoughts away from punishment, and wondered if there was anyone around he could mug for a few Family Guy tapes. A good laugh was always more important than the old men.

And so, with this purpose in mind, he began to stalk the halls of illumination.

--

Gendo Ikari stood, as usual, silently. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes danced over the report in his gloved hands. 

_Ikari._

_Your son is not under your control, is he? You **are** a cold bastard. The information you requested has been sent through the usual route. Password, not experiment._

_I ask you now, how many monsters are there? Are you a fool, or a monster? And I, as I aid you, does this make me the greatest fool of all, or the worst monster?_

Gendo didn't bother to hide his lipless smile as he turned his head upward to look at the empty Geofront. His hands crumpled the paper, and he tossed it onto his desk. Where most heads of highly secretive organizations would have burnt the paper, so confident was he that he didn't bother, but turned and started toward the extra exit from his office.

How long had it been since he had visited Akagi? Such a simple puppet. How easy to manipulate.

He despaired at the monotony of his task. Why should he be forced to pander to such insignificant animals? Why was everyone around him so carnal?

Gendo Ikari drew from his pocket a cellular phone. Three vicious pokes later he spoke into the metal.

--

The cubic angel slipped unnoticed across the first defensive perimeter, something that should have been impossible for a being of its size.

It simply wouldn't do for NERV to become aware of its presence before it was in position. Therefore, with strategic placement of drone units, the angel continued its silent procession toward the center of Tokyo-3.

Unfortunately, it had managed to forget to include telephone wires in its stealth calculations, and as a result, tripped over one, rotating wildly on several axes. It finally came to a stop, after much raging at the injustice of the world, on a corner of its cube. Of course, this also had the side effect of setting off every Angel alarm in the city of Tokyo-3 as several purplish beams sprayed across the city.

The Angel gave a mixed sighing groan of disbelief, and triggered the detonation of its drones.

Six city blocks vaporized as the raging maelstroms of energy tore into the concrete jungle.

--

Shinji slithered between the rapidly closing blast doors, fleeing Shuriken and her ICS, or rather, her Infinite Clip Syndrome. Who's _brilliant_ idea had it been to give her an accursed SOCOM anyway?

Oh. Right. He'd been the one who'd snatched it off a training run. Hell, wasn't like the dead man needed it anyway. On the other hand, it had taken far too long to figure out how he couldn't use the damn thing. It had a pressure sensitive grip: hold it too tightly; the firing pin was locked. Hold it too loosely; the firing pin was still locked. He'd given it to Shuriken to laugh at her. Problem being she'd figured out a way to bypass that particular safety. Stupid stupid Shuri.

Of course, now that the feet of steel between them finally drowned the gunshots out, there was nothing stopping the sound of the Angel Alarm. Which sucked. Because now Shinji didn't even have an excuse for being late.

"Oh, I was being shot at. What? No, they missed. Eh? No, I didn't see their face. Come again? A really long magazine?" was something he didn't quite think would go over very well. And, while the aftermath of the chat with his father had been entertaining, the prelude had been rather dull.

And with that, Shinji Ikari bolted down the hallowed halls of NERV, in desperate search of the lockers to change into his plugsuit.

--

"Where the hell were you?" the irate Captain demanded.

"Places, mademoiselle Katsuragi. Here and there and everywhere, down the rabbit hole, and through the looking glass, to the magical land of Oz. With a temporary stop over in Margarita-Ville." Yes, Shinji had no idea that he had just mixed three totally different fairy tales with an American song. Not that he would have cared, but if ignorance was bliss, Shinji was the happiest man on earth.

"…"

"Yes, ma'am?" Shinji wondered innocently.

"…"

"Is that your, O-M-G-W-T-F-L-O-L face?"

That had been truly bizarre to the non-techies hunkered in the room. The techies, on the other hand, had chosen to crack up laughing at his spelling out of internet lingo. That he had done it with a straight face made it all the more amusing.

Ritsuko's eye twitched. Her eyebrow twitched along. Slowly, her entire head was drawn into the twitch.

"Gee, doc. You should have that looked at soon. Parkinson's striking early, is it?"

Akagi took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"As much as I enjoy slaughtering unarmed opponents in battles of wits—" The control room rocked with the sound of the drill crushing its way through another layer of armor, temporarily interrupting the Doctor. "—I believe we have a more pressing issue at hand."

"My good doctor! You wound me! See?" Shinji asked, holding his still red hand up toward the camera. For some reason, the plugsuit he'd found had no gloves. "I bleed!"

The doctor stared for a good half minute, before slowly asking. "You… went… PAINTBALLING!?"

Shinji blinked rapidly. "Lets see, red paint on the hand, missing most of the past couple of days, and five-hundred new-yen richer, yep. Common symptoms of paintballing."

The doctor opened her mouth to chew him out, before a phone jangling reminded her that yes, she did have a job to do.

"Launch him Katsuragi!"

"Uh…" Misato broke out of her attempt to understand what the hell had just happened, and bellowed, "Eva Unit One, Launch!"

Shinji just put his head back against the seat inside the LCL filled tube.

Ahh, the taste of blood in your plug. It was indeed the best part of waking up.

--

The distinctive screech of metal on metal snapped Shinji out of his rather demented reverie, mostly about what he was going to do to Shuri' when he got out of NERV headquarters. Mostly involving some Ritalin, some cheese steaks, and most importantly, whipped cream. A camera would, of course, be necessary. No, several cameras. Had to make sure that at least one set of prints survived, neh?

Shinji peered upward, confused. The hell? He wasn't anywhere near the surface yet!

"Shi—an—ea—e?"

"No, I don't read you, you stupid bitch." He abruptly started to fervently hope that she had as shitty reception as he did.

"Shinji—read me?"

"Getting better."

"Listen… you're… fifty meters… surface… climb…"

"Righty-o then, old… whatever you are."

He attempted to start climbing, to watch the admittedly amusing sight of his arms and legs milling about uselessly in midair.

"Might wanna release those hardlocks anytime now…"

There was a solid chink, and Shinji ended up flat on his Eva's ass, due to the inopportune positioning of his legs.

"Ow…"

Well, he could at least be thankful that the Eva did not appear to have balls to squish. That would have hurt a lot more. Yes, that was something he could be confident about. Because he knew from personal experience. Not something he cared to remember.

The giant purple fingers drove into the unforgiving concrete of the ETS, which expanded to, "Eva Transport System." It wasn't a very good name, as the transport system only operated within Tokyo-3, which was part of the cause for his belief that the acronym should be changed to T3ETS. Of course, it had nothing to do with how T3ETS looked like teets. Because, in his own words, "What the hell is a teet?"

Which had no bearing whatsoever on the current situation, but it wasn't like there was much else to think about while climbing the remaining distance to the surface of the city. Well, technically there was a lot else to think about. Everything in the world actually. ETS and T3ETS just happened to be the only things coming to mind at the moment.

Shinji sighed at his mental dissertation, and mentally slapped himself. Forgetting, of course, that he was in an Eva, and therefore was controlling it by thought.

The results were predictable; the Eva pulled one hand out of the wall of the ETS, and slapped its purple helmet. Shinji yelped at the sudden introduction of purple hand to purple face, and cursed his thoughtlessness. Or rather his thinking about slapping himself. Or something like that. His head hurt far too much to be thinking in circles at the moment.

He glared at the somewhat clearer commscreen, on which he could see Misato and the long haired one laughing. Everyone else was off screen. He could hear their laughter around sporadic bursts of static, his eyebrow starting to twitch in an irritated fashion. They were going to die.

And Nodachi always made good on his threats. Always. "You are not helping…" he hummed in a dangerously sing-song voice.

"Right… We don't know what this thing is capable of, only that we didn't notice it until it was past the first defensive perimeter. The MAGI estimate a sixty-two point three percent chance that it is based on long range weaponry. In addition, it caused several explosions immediately after we detected it, so it evidently has a degree of intelligence. Furthermore, it has eliminated most of the defenses the last Angel left intact enough to be eliminated. Unfortunately, it has destroyed most of the nearby armories, so you're stuck with the prog knife. It is worthy of note that the Angel has also been destroying the shelters it comes across. The MAGI explain this with the theory that it has the knowledge of the two previous Angels. As such, proceed with caution."

Shinji smiled hungrily. "Sounds like fun. Who's up for a bite after I kick this thing back into the heaping ball of plasma it should be?"

Misato was cautious. And for someone with cooking skills like hers, that was damn impressive. "A bite of what?"

Shinji rolled his eyes. "Fried Angel meat, what else, dipshit?"

"You're grounded for that one. And I'm never eating with you if that's what you eat."

"You're not my guardian. In addition, have you never heard the word, 'sarcasm'? I know it is hard and all, but do try and expand your vocabulary."

Ooooh, was the collective thought of the bridge crew. Burn…

Shinji smiled innocently, apparently seeing the thought in their faces, and continued, "Talk to Ayanami. Better get some ice for that burn…"

Misato's face was the most interesting pink-purple-blue-red-mauve he'd seen in… well, ever, actually.

Shinji slapped the 'Close Window' button, and turned his attention to the fact that he was nearing the surface.

As the purple horn lifted over the lip of the tube, the Angel decided it needed some target practice.

Shinji yelped as he felt the intense heat of the Angel's attack shear the horn from his helmet, and then vaporize it.

After a few moments of cowering behind the concrete shield, he re-opened the communication channel, to find a totally different Misato on the other end. Loki, she looked like the Ancient One's daughter… And that was just a creepy thought. Him getting it on… "Arrrgh!" Shinji wailed.

"Cut the shit Shinji. Damage report?"

"The horn's missing. That thing vaporized it. That is one _hell_ of an attack."

"Check your extension cord," she ordered.

Shinji glanced back to see the cable descending into the darkened corridor. "On which topic, what am I plugged into, and why couldn't you just install that into the Eva?"

"You're plugged into the main generator for the greater portion of Tokyo-3. That's why we couldn't put it on the Eva. And it is rather too big to install. Is that a 'it is still intact'?"

Shinji nodded blandly. "Yeah. Far as I can see it is."

"Right. The MAGI hypothesize that the Angel will vaporize anything within a certain radius. We're sending up a decoy unit along another track as we speak. Kind of. It is a 1/1-scale prop of your Eva. You need to get out just after it; hopefully the Angel will destroy the decoy first, and then turn its attention to you. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly muddy. Lets see if I can get this dirt to settle some. You're sending out an imitation of the Unit-01, to distract the Angel. At which point I am to proceed out of the launch path, and begin my assault, while attempting to avoid being swatted. Correct?"

"Close enough. The decoy should be arriving in about three seconds. Prepare to engage." 

"Roger."

Shinji counted to two, before he pulled his Eva over the ledge, and scampered toward the Angel. Its first attack nailed the decoy, annihilating it without trouble.

Shinji flung the Eva flat against a building to avoid the second beam, and then continued his headlong assault.

He felt something building inside the Angel, and flung himself down a side street conveniently located to his left, with two more where he had boarded the street, and two more streets closer to the Angel.

//_Please fasten your seatbelts, we may be experiencing turbulence_//, ran through his head, for no particular reason. He always had trouble focusing just before a battle.

This attack, however tracked him better, and he had to continue down the street to escape. As it finished, he promptly vaulted the buildings, and continued his charge. Once again, he felt the strange building of energy within the Angel, and he tried the same dodging technique he'd used before.

The angel, apparently fed up with him, and getting smarter, had not fired the same single beam it had been firing. Instead, a cone of energy sprayed from the corner nearest Unit One, peppering its legs with energy.

For the first time since he had actually been shot with a shotgun, Shinji screamed. It felt almost the same, only take the number of pellets, multiply by a hundred, and then square the velocity they were traveling at a few times.

Yes. Definitely reason to scream.

As the barrage ended, Shinji heard the stirrings of the voice his head.

_'Don't die. Failure. You die, you're worthless. No one needs a corpse. Then how would you get your revenge? How would you get your pleasure? Don't be stupid. Don't die. Failure…' _The voice looped.

Shinji's eyes flashed. Despite the still open comm channel, he bared his teeth in a snarl. "I… will… not… lose… to… you!"

His guttural voice was the tiniest bit creepy most of the bridge crew agreed. Or would agree. Later.

"Shinji! Retreat!"

The Eva complied; so much as it pulled itself to its feet. Whereupon it started toward the Angel again.

To be blasted backward by the full concentrated beam the Angel fired. Shinji screamed again, pain dulling his senses. All he knew was the intense heat drilling into his chest, forcing him to his knees, forcing the Eva backward.

By some stroke of fate, he stopped on a recovery elevator.

"Recover Unit One! Now damn it!"

The Eva disappeared down the recovery tunnel, retreating as ordered.

--

Shinji's wide eyes stared at the walls of the plug, not feeling the pain from the superheated LCL.

Nor did he feel the LCL as it was ejected violently from the circular enclosure, steam rising from the boiling liquid.

Oddly enough, all that kept Shinji from being boiled alive was the lack of room inside the plug, so the LCL could not boil while confined.

Shinji forced himself into a standing position as the plug was ejected, stumbling down onto the catwalk in front of the Eva. For a brief moment, he felt the weakness attempt to bring him to his knees, but he stubbornly remained standing.

His eyes hurt like hell. So did his ears. Hell, his nose felt pretty damn bad too. His eyes were having trouble focusing, but that wasn't really anything new. They didn't focus well anyway.

One of the medtechs hauling the gurney stepped toward him in an annoyed fashion. "Mister Ikari, we have orders to escort you to the medical wing."

Shinji's eyes glittered. "Job or Life?"

The man was, understandably, confused. "What?"

"What do you value more. Your Job, or your Life? Because I can assure you, you're losing one of those today."

The man glared. "Is that a _threat_, mister Ikari?"

"It is a statement. Take it how you will. And furthermore, to you, it is 'Pilot' Ikari."

Shinji stepped past the man, brushing him off callously.

"I have to take you to the medical wing."

Shinji's hand knifed into the side of his neck.

"No, you don't."

The man dropped, too busy dying to care about Shinji at the moment.

"He needs medical attention, if he's going to live."

He continued out of the room, heading for the lockers, not noticing one Rei Ayanami following him.

Not that he would have particularly cared. She was just one more person to get in his way. Just one more infidel.

Albeit, a powerful infidel. But still an infidel.

--

Shinji leaned heavily against the lockers, allowing himself a brief moment of weakness. His eyes shut, and he began to explore the damage to his person with the Power. He couldn't necessarily fix the damage, but he could find out what it was.

To his surprise, and joy, he found that almost all of the damage was superficial. Nothing that couldn't be fixed with some rest. Unlikely as it was that he would get that rest. Unfortunately, there was some residual damage to his nerves, mostly in the legs. But, there wasn't really anything NERV could do for that either. There was only two people he could think of that could have fixed it, and one of them was dead. Very dead. He'd killed the man himself. No, the one whose mind he had stolen had committed that act. But was there a difference now? He had the man's memories, knowledge, everything that made the man who he was. There was no difference.

Shinji didn't believe in souls.

He sank to the ground, draping his arms loosely.

"Pilot Ikari."

He yelped and jumped, his hand already busily wrapping itself around the girl's throat, and his other groping for a weapon. He had enough time to recognize the blue hair, and red eyes, before he slammed the girl into the lockers.

Dropping his hand, he asked, "What is it?"

"You require medical attention."

Shinji's eyes reflected the phosphorescent light as he turned his head to the side. "You have credentials to prove your diagnosis is valid?"

Rei stood silently.

"I didn't think so. In the future, please refrain from attempting to give me medical advice."

He turned away, depressurizing his plugsuit, as he did so. He dropped it to the floor, observing the parts now grafted to his skin, and decided it would require replacing.

Shinji stretched out for a moment before starting to get dressed, strapping his knives back onto his body, followed by one of his Walther-P99s, and then finally his clothes.

When he at last turned around, he noted that Rei was still there. Or there again. One of the two.

"Yes Rei?"

"Why did you mutilate your body so?"

"The tattoo? I wanted to."

"I see. Why are you so armed?"

"Because I want to be."

"I see. The Commander and Capitan Katsuragi request your presence in the debriefing room."

With that she turned and exited the locker room.

Shinji stared after her for a moment, then shrugged and picked up his bag. His body was so hypersensitive that his clothes rubbing against his skin sent jolts of pain slithering through his nervous system, to arrive at his brain, telling him that Rei had indeed been correct.

Not that he was going to admit it.

--

Shinji stepped into the room slowly; a mixture of revelry and agony twisting his eyes, though neither reached his lips. Never show potential enemies your pain, nor your pleasure, had been the Ancient One's favorite saying.

"Pilot Ikari."

The same tone of voice as the Ancient One, even. Shit.

"Commander. Capitan. Doctor." Shinji nodded, mockingly. Of course, they were not among the people who understood his mockery, and therefore did not interpret it as such. His collar hung open, revealing his neck, another sign that he felt no threat from them.

Around people whose skills he respected, he would have a weapon in hand, and his neck hidden as well as his wrists and ankles. Furthermore, his eyes would never have left them, neither their hands, nor their faces. But he had no respect for their skills.

Just that they let him do what he wanted to.

"I am here."

Shinji hopped away from the girl, his hand slipping into his shirt to finger the closest knife, as the other immediately buttoned his collar.

Rei… He wasn't entirely sure if he feared her or respected her. Or both. Both, probably. She was no Weapon, but she did have abnormal amounts of the Power.

And that was something you didn't fuck with.

"Alright you two. We have a plan."

"And I thought it was the fish that stank."

"Shut up Pilot. As it stands, our tests have confirmed that the Angel will fire upon anything within a set area, or anything that makes a hostile movement. Further tests have shown that its AT-Field—"

"What is an AT-Field?"

"I told you to shut up. It's what stops you from hitting the Angel. And vice-versa. Its AT-Field will require over one point eight g-cal of energy to puncture. We have come up with a plan, involving the JSSDF's Positron Rifle. We will have one gunner, and one shield. The gunner will fire the Rifle, destroying the Angel."

"Why do we need a shield, Capitan?"

"Simply put, should the gunner miss the first shot, it will take the Rifle seventeen seconds to recharge."

"You're not going to put the shield out there without protection, are you?"

"No. We have… come up with a shield. It is… or rather, was going to be the bottom of the Eva atmosphere reentry shuttle. We have Section 2's guarantee that it will hold up to the Angel's beam for thirteen seconds."

"Whoo! Section 2! The guys that lost me at a paintball tournament! I feel so much safer now!"

Blondie nodded as Misato slipped on some LCL.

"I seem to be tracking that stuff everywhere lately…"

"Shinji, you'll be the shield. Rei is the gunner."

Shinji moaned at the thought of missing his chance to use that big of a gun, but nodded his understanding nevertheless. "Oh… right. I need a new plug suit. And uhh… do you think you can get it off of me?" He lifted the sleeve of his shirt, showing the way the suit had been burned into his upper arm.

--

Shinji slid into the seat of his entry plug, sighing dimly. The seat even had pieces of his plugsuit boiled onto it.

He shut his eyes, mentally reviewing the conversation he'd just had with Rei.

_"So… why do you pilot?"_

_"It is… my purpose… and my bond to life."_

_"Feh. I pity you… I guess."_

_"Why is that, Pilot Ikari?"_

_"You have nothing else. You believe yourself replaceable. You don't think you deserve life. It is pathetic."_

_"…"_

_"Tell me, are you scared?"_

_"… I… do not know…"_

_"Don't worry about the Angel. If I tell you to hold your fire, you hold your fire. Don't worry, it will work out."_

_"… How can you be sure of that?"_

_"Because if it does not, I have failed, and I will be damn lucky I am not around to reap my reward for that failure. Besides, I have people to see, things to do. I am not going to die. And I guess that means I will not let you die either, after all, I am your bodyguard."_

_"…"_

_"Well, time to go. I would say good luck, but you do not need it. That would be insulting. I will protect you. You will not die."_

_"… understood."_

Shinji shook his head. "Why the hell did I do that?"

_"Because you knew she would come back if she died."_

"No, I do not care if she comes back or not. I want to know why I said that I would protect her."

_"Because you like her."_

"I am incapable of that. Maybe you are? Are you putting thoughts in my head again?"

_"How could I? I'm just one of your thoughts."_

"That does not mean anything. I may have created you, but you can still use my head."

_"Very well. Yes, I did put that idea in your head."_

"I have told you to stop that. If you keep interfering, you know what will happen. I am going to snap, and then we will both be fucked."

"I can't stop what will happen. I can merely affect the way things happen. I'm trying to make this easier on you!"

"You know I'm incapable of those emotions. You know I do not care if you disappear. If you want me broken, I will break, you have that power."

_"I just want this to be as pleasant as possible!"_

"Then stay out of my way."

Shinji didn't respond to his statement. _//Man, I am fucked up. Talking to myself like I am another person. Hell, I am using contractions to indicate the difference to myself! What the hell?//_

"Shinji!"

"Yes ma'am?"

Katsuragi's face froze. He was never that respectful.

She shook her head. Fluke. "The operation is going to begin in two minutes. Energizing the LCL, prepare to boot."

"Gotcha."

And what the hell was wrong with him? He was practically ANGSTING!

Shinji shook the thought off as the LCL woke him up again.

"Everything ready, Rei?"

"Yes Capitan."

A minute of silence passed.

"All right. Rei, Prepare to fire."

"Understood."

Shinji heard the power couplings begin to thrum with energy.

And then, he felt the Angel massing its attack… again.

"Shit! Ayanami! Hold your fire!"

Shinji dove in front of the prone Unit Zero, bracing himself for the Angel's blast.

It slammed into his AT-Field, lashing at it for less than one tenth of a second, and then whipping through the dying field.

To collide with a second, much stronger AT-Field, backed by Shinji's Power.

"Damn it!" He bellowed as the beam slashed through that Field as well.

"REI! FIRE NOW!"

"Ayanami! DO NOT FIRE! YOU FIRE AND WE BOTH DIE!"

Her finger hovered above the trigger, twitching as she fought an internal battle. It was obvious that she was being ordered to fire, but Shinji did know something about fighting Angels. And she felt something… different about him. He was no Angel, that was for sure. But his AT-Field was utterly abnormal for a human.

It felt… purer. Like that of a newborn, was the only thing she could think of that might have felt similar.

Shinji snarled as the heat washed over the finally fully disintegrated shield.

"_Now! Fire Ayanami!"_

Her finger pulled the trigger, sending the purple blaze of light slashing through the night air, ramming effortlessly through the Angel's weakened AT-Field, and then slicing through the diamond itself.

Shinji screamed as the Angel's death-shriek rippled out through the Power, razing his mind.

Unit One dropped to its knees, molten armor plating running freely from its body.

//_Thank Loki that was not a concentrated beam. Why was it not though? The Angel should have known…_//

He didn't have time for further reflection as his plug ejected from the back of his Eva, and was pulled out by Unit Zero.

Shinji turned, and drove a vicious kick into the secondary exit for the plug, snapping it off of hinges.

" 'S cold…" he whispered as he tumbled out into the night air.

"So… cold…" he shivered before falling into something similar to hibernation.

****

**END CHAPTER**

Well… here it is. Late. Really late. Oh well.

Yeah. Flame, review, praise, roast, yeah. Go ahead. I'm lazy, I make no excuse.

Luckily, I already know what's going to happen next chapter, so it should be out faster. Go me.

EDIT: Er… Yeah. I forgot Misato was a Capitan at this point… corrected.


	9. Debut of the Nameless

Arizosa—eep! I hast been forgiven! Joy!

Chaotic Order—it isn't two personalities. It's Shinji playing out a conversation in his head. He knows he is both 'voices', he just chooses not to think about it too much because it makes his head hurt. Makes mine hurt too. Oh, Shinji has plenty of emotions. He just directs them into blowing stuff up. A lack of a sense of right/wrong will do that to a person. Oh… Asuka's going to be _fun_! And 'Dachi technically has shown his form while in the plug. He just hasn't let anyone else see it.

Richard Rahl—Whoa… Maybe I should re-read that. Hrmm…

legacyZero—I shalleth not abandon! I'm too stubborn!

Itchy—basically, a big-ass anthropomorphic lizard. I've been dropping clues here and there (bad ones) in the way I describe him. Whee… I actually mentioned its name. Somewhere.

A/N: Well, uh… actually, I'd forgotten about the Jet Alone incident. Plus, my copy of Eva is out on loan right now. So some details may be… off. On a happier note, seems FF.N's started uploading reviews, even if its not sending out Review Notifications for the ones it was slow about. Also note that I've switched the Jet Alone incident until after Eva-02's arrival, if I decide to do it at all. Feh, Eva One's still slag, so anything's possible. Meaning, Asuka's going for the JA if it happens. 

||||||||||

Ocean Red

Chapter 9: Debut of the Nameless

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

||||||||||

Shinji opened his eyes. This felt somehow familiar. Oh, right. It had to be the needles. Damn, was this going to happen every time he passed out?

Upon further reflection, he admitted that the answer to that was indeed, "probably." He was, after all, one of the pilots. A savior of humanity, as Blondie had termed him. The savior of destruction as he had termed himself.

His voice rang into the empty room, more than a tad bit off key, "Bang-bang Maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head… Bang-bang, Maxwell's silver hammer made sure that she was dead…"

Rather, horrendously off key. It brought a tear to the eye of a passing nurse, who promptly ran to call security in the hopes that "violating the sanctity of music" was an offense punishable by death. In an unfortunate-yet-fortunate twist of events, it was not.

Not that Shinji was aware of the drama of the nurse's life; he was too engrossed with butchering one of the Ancient One's favorite songs. Well, he might have thought, in comparison, he was merciful. The Ancient One couldn't have carried a tune in a swimming pool if his life depended on it.

Well, not that he'd let his life depend on anything. That was stupid.

Shinji sat fully up, his eyes shadowed by the darkness pouring in the window. Damn, he'd either been out for a long time, or almost no time at all. He felt a breeze coming from the vents, and it took him a long moment to realize that he should not have been feeling it in that particular location.

Immediately his hand whirled up to his face, finding that yes, the insignia scar just under his left eye was revealed to the world. It consisted of five triangles, one pointing downward, while the other four identical isosceles triangles aimed up and away from the first, spreading in a distinctly claw-like fashion.

The cover must have boiled off, mused the scarred one. His hand absentmindedly drifted back to the back of his neck, where the second scar, shaped in an upside-down cross, rested.

Damn. If he kept along this carelessly he would be six feet under before long.

So, he'd simply get better. It was the only logical choice.

He stood up, wavering unsteadily on his feet, and started toward the nearest door, observing blandly that he was still in his plugsuit.

Obviously, it was no time at all. He would have been in a hospital gown had it been longer than an hour and a half. Doctors were evidently slacking. He snorted mentally, and waved at the security camera as he exited the room.

The familiar sounds and scents of the hospital indicated that, as he believed, he was once again inside the Geofront. Inside the NERV complex itself, most likely. Cool. That meant that his locker, and therefore both his weapons and clothes, were nearby. Which in turn meant that he was close enough to get them back before Section-3 appropriated them. Bastards.

Come to think of it, the only time he had ever heard Section-3 mentioned was in passing by an employee, involving a comment about how the only thing they were good for was bodyguard duty, as they would follow orders completely. Actually, that was rather reminiscent of Ayanami and Section-2. Section-1 was most NERV personnel, comprised mostly of technicians. Almost completely, actually.

Shinji pressed his left hand against the wall, not so much as for support, though that was partly the reasoning behind his purpose, but to judge the material it was made of. To see how it would burn, and whatnot. Being made of a plaster exo with a steel infrastructure, he deduced that it wouldn't be anything special. Damnation.

He stumbled slightly, his foot dragging across the uneven break in the metal floor.

His loud cursing rent the sterile sound of the hospital. Apparently it also summoned a nurse, who promptly began to chase him as he fled into a men's bathroom.

Which naturally didn't stop her, but she slowed as she saw him enter it, knowing that the only way out was through her.

And knowing that, she felt secure enough to meander the rest of the distance to the door.

A mistake that would have been fatal had Shinji been armed, but as he wasn't, he merely pulled the grate out of the air ventilation shaft, and slithered inside before replacing it. He watched the woman enter the bathroom confidently, watched as she inspected every one of the stalls, watched as she grew more nervous between every stall, and, mercifully, laughed silently as she left shrieking for the Doctor.

Silly bitch.

Shinji squirmed through the ventilation shaft, grunting slightly at the tight fit. This was not a place intended for humans his size to navigate. Stupid architects.

--

Shinji sighed as he came over a locker room, and quickly smashed in the grate, dropping ceremoniously to the floor. Landing on his head, but that was part of the ceremony. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a long moment, collecting whatever was left of his scattered thoughts. Not that there were many of those.

At last he stood, peering around the cavernous room for his locker. Upon locating it, he changed into his newer gear, a plain navy t-shirt under an unbuttoned dark blue Hawaiian shirt, with a pair of black slack dress pants, the kind listed as wrinkle free, though they really weren't. Just close enough that they didn't have to be ironed. Belted with a black one-size-fits-all belt around the waist, with a non-standard buckle. Above that, an identical belt, though it was more bluish, wrapped around his lower abdomen, holding the straight sword across his back. A third belt, from which hung several pouches filled with random items, a couple of razor blades, some rocks, spare clips, extra shells, his lighter, some money, and a single bottle of his special nitro glycerin rested diagonally between the two, held in place mostly by the top belt. It also held a holster for his Walther, though a NERV-issued SIG-Sauer P230 9mm Short automatic pistol would shortly replace that. Not a weapon he knew much about, but after all, it was NERV standard. So it was probably, at worst, decent. At best, it might have been adequate. He prayed it came with a suppressor. Because, damn, he didn't like having to cut his way through a shit load of enemies without his nodachi.

He shrugged another jacket on, once again Shuri's idea. This time, however, he had to credit her. The leather bomber jacket was his second favorite article of clothing she had purchased. He made a mental note to never, ever let her access his bank account. Ever. Again, at least. Gods, he still bore the scars! She had killed off half of what remained of his brain!

At least, that was what it felt like.

Shinji stepped out of the room, heading for the Commander's office, generally pissed at any and all hospital employees at the moment. To hell with them, he cheered. They would be chewed out massively for letting him escape. If not outright fired.

His mental laughter would have scared chipmunks. Had there been any telepathic chipmunks in Japan.

Lucky for all telepathic chipmunks, they tended to live in Australia, with the rest of those fucking kangaroos.*

--

The large, imposing room echoed with the sounds of Ikari's furious ranting.

Ayanami wilted under the intense gaze of the Captain, while her Commander raged at her.

Abruptly, a voice cut through the rage. "Hold up, what's this?"

Commander Ikari glared at the intruder, one Shinji Ikari. "Pilot Ayanami committed insubordination, and as such must be punished."

Shinji's amusement could have been heard in his voice, if one couldn't see the delight in his eyes. Understandably difficult, as he'd picked up his biological father's habit of wearing dark sunglasses. "Hold up, last time I did that, you tried to have me killed. Well, at least, I think that was what happened. Not every day a group of Section-2 dumbasses attacks me. Tell me, have they figured out I do their job better than they do yet?"

The Commander glared hard. Shinji removed his sunglasses, sliding them into his jacket, meeting the man's eyes with a look that said, "I'm so stoned I could get shot and not know it. And you think you have a chance of intimidating me?" Apart from the fact that he hadn't touched any sort of drug, ever. Including painkillers and narcotics.

"Now, I think we should rectify this. I gave Ayanami-san an order before the mission was initiated. I also made a comment that could have been, in that circumstance, an implication that I would have died to protect her. I wouldn't have. But I did say I would protect her, and so there was a second reason for her following my order. Kind of. Anyway, do you even know what that Angel's attack was made of? I took a look in the energy reading logs after my flash-boil, and it was made of Positrons. Just like the rifle. Now, I'm no scientist, but I know the basics of physics, and chemistry is just fun. Irrelevant, but whatever. Correct me if I'm wrong, but positives usually repel, correct?"

"What are you saying, Pilot Ikari?"

"Punish me. It is my fault. I actually have an idea, but we should discuss that in private. Offense: I don't particularly like the Captain there."

"Very well. If you wish to sacrifice yourself for the girl, then so be it. You will be doing something for me. Captain, Pilot, dismissed."

The commander waved them boredly out of his office, and promptly focused on Shinji.

Utterly confused by this turn of events, Katsuragi allowed herself to be herded out of the office by a pair of Section-3 agents, following the First Children.

"You claimed to have an idea?" The man investigated.

"Yes. Like I said, I glanced through the database after my flash-boil. I saw that you are bringing the Second Children—incidentally, how many damn families are coming?—and she's coming on a UN super carrier. I also note that you are sending the Captain to escort her from the midway point. I would like to volunteer as a… bodyguard if you will. The Admiral will not be cooperative. We know this. I can… coerce him. Heh, note that I'm through the BT. It is now perfectly legal for you to employ me as a Section-2 NCO." Uncharacteristically serious.

"You have expanded your vocabulary of late." There wasn't much surprise in the man's voice.

"Better than listening to those damn lectures. Worry not, by tomorrow I will be back to my idiot self. Being boiled does weird things to a person." Hell, being boiled once wasn't pleasant. Twice was just insane.

"I see. Permission granted."

"I have one more request." Shinji continued pestering.

For the first time, impatience graced the older man's voice. "You are becoming demanding. What is it?"

"Two, technically. I want that SIG-Sauer already, and I want to be restrained when taken to the Over the Rainbow." Shinji's sardonic smirk was slightly disturbing.

"Very well."

"Goody. Bye, old man."

Shinji skipped out of the room, clicking his heels every now and then with a, "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore…" thrown out every time he turned a corner.

--

"Captain."

"Yes, Commander?"

"When you go to escort the Third Child. He is to be restrained."

"Why, sir?"

"You do not need to know that. All you need to do is take him."

"Yes, _sir_."

"Good. Dismissed."

The woman exited the room, wondering why she was being ordered to take the boy. Sure, he was a pilot, and sure, he was good, but what use was it if there was already another pilot for the Eva anyway?

She gave a mental shrug, and tried to dismiss the thought. The Commander had decreed that she didn't need to know, so she wouldn't be told. A thousand curses upon his grandchildren. After all, his son was curse enough for the man. No need to make that any more unpleasant. She wasn't evil, just vengeful.

--

Shinji yawned boredly as Purplie, Katsuragi's new designation, tried to navigate through the half-finished construction below. He thought for a moment, foreign though the sensation may have been, and then walked over to the railing with a shrug before hopping over it to fall the five or six levels to the dirt and concrete below.

Ahh, _that_ was why he didn't do that anymore. His knees didn't like it.

Well, at least his lighter was still in his belt-pouch. That was new.

"Hey-o Kat-lady! Why are you here? Am I being called for some sort of duty?"

Misato's eye twitched busily. _KAT-LADY?_

"The Commander has… requested that you come along with me to escort the Second Children and Evangelion Unit Zero-Two."

"Oooh!" Shinji squealed excitedly. "Another family! Do we get to ride a boat? Huh, do we? Do we? Do we? Do we? Do we? Do we?"

Kat-lady looked like she would have liked nothing better than to have just fled the scene screaming, in an attempt to sacrifice her rapidly crumbling sanity. //_Why me? What did I do to deserve _this_?_//

"Yes. We are going to be rendezvousing with the UN Super Carrier _Over the Rainbow_."

"Yay!" 'Dachi squeaked. "And you make it sound so officious-like with those big words! This is going to be great!"

At this point, Misato decided that if it would stop her having to spend time with this insane little squirrelly boy that she would have committed seppuku. With a Frisbee.

But the Commander would have found some way to ensnare her soul, and force her to do it anyway. A thousand curses upon his great-grandchildren!

After a good count-to-six, she at last exploded. "Are you _fugging_ _high_ or something?"

"I dunno. Maybe. Lets see… no, that was just the one time… I saw someone get high of Ajax once, drove his car straight into a brick wall. He died. It was funny."

Misato finally broke and ran away screaming, her purple hair streaming out behind her. Shinji gave chase, continuing his utterly random, nonsensical, and inane commentary.

This was _fun!_

--

Shinji nodded absently in response to the Section-3 officer's question as to whether he was going to allow the man to put the cuffs on him, or if he was going to resist. He wasn't really paying attention, nor was he particularly caring. He'd already disarmed himself, apart from his short sword, and his weapons were hidden safely.

So he sniggered slightly when the handcuffs snapped shut around his wrist, admiring the length of metal chain between the individual cuffs.

These pathetic shards of metal wouldn't stand up to Shuriken, let alone Nodachi. But it would be fun to toy with the Second Children. Just for the hell of it. That was the only reason that made anything worth doing.

Nodachi followed the Captain into the chopper, flexing subtly against the restraints. They were pathetic. Really, it was almost like they weren't even made of proper metal! It was insulting!

He wondered offhandedly if the Second would be a fun playmate.

His temporary state of musing was interrupted by the roar of the t-chopper taking off, and he turned to look out the open side of the helicopter.

For a moment he was occupied by wondering what kind of helicopter it was, that it was a NERV custom was not only obvious, but a given. He was wonder what the base had been, it sounded a bit like a Kasatka, but that was Russian. And the old man being the Russianophobe he was, NERV would not have used that. Or the engineer had been shot after being forced to watch his family being tortured, and the helicopter had been in mass enough production that it would have been far more of an inconvenience for it to be switched than to see it every time the man looked at one of the choppers. But that was stretching circumstances a bit.

Okay, a hell of a lot. Probably not a Kasatka then.

His eyes fell shut, and he abruptly decided not to open them once on the super carrier. Why not, after all?

Abruptly he felt the sudden change in the direction he was being pulled as the chopper suffered massive engine failure.

Shinji's eyes flew open, to see the co-pilot standing over the body of the pilot, smiling nastily, his weapon aimed at Kat-lady.

In a voice that sounded as if it had never been washed, he murmured, "Move and she dies…"

Shinji shrugged uncaringly. "Yeah. She dies. So what?"

The man looked confused, impressive when the helmet of his flight suit hid most of his face. "She is your ops-dee. Why aren't you defending her?"

Shinji nodded agreeably. "Feh. She's just my ops-dee. Why would I defend her?"

The man's lips twisted into a vicious snarl, and he spoke angrily. "Fine. Then she'll die." Before pulling the trigger on his weapon.

Before the case hit the floor, now tilting alarmingly as it neared the ocean, Shinji rushed the man, using his bound hands to shove the barrel of the gun up toward the ceiling. He took the knee to his gut, flinching slightly as he did so, but nevertheless succeeding in driving the man backward out of the open side of the chopper.

As they plummeted toward the surface of the water, Shinji looked into the face of the mask and smiled.

"That was interesting. Lets see what happens when you hit the water, eh?"

He nodded, wrenched the man's wrist so it broke with an echoing rapid-shatter, and shoved the gun into the back of his pants before they hit the water.

There was an earsplitting shriek as ribs and vertebra broke, and the man whimpered in pain before sinking.

Shinji looked toward the chopper, the wrecked hulk sinking slowly into the murky depths and sighed boredly.

He felt a phantom hand on his shoulder, and spun around in the water.

"Wake your ass up Ikari!"

--

Shinji shot bolt upright from where he had been seated, observing that the rotors had stopped before he lashed out at the one who had woken him up, his eyes still closed.

He was greeted with a yelp as Kat-lady staggered backward out of the chopper, falling unsteadily to the flight deck of the carrier.

Shinji himself hopped off, landing on all… threes, technically, as his hands were bound.

He stood up, cracked his neck, and followed the sounds of Kat-lady's footsteps. Off-handedly he wondered where the second was.

A moment later he found out, as he heard a distinctly German voice echo across the deck.

"Why, hallo Misato!"

"Hey Asuka! My, looks like you've grown some!"

"Yeah, I'm not only taller, my figure's filled out as well."

At which point a breeze gusted across the boat, lifting the skirt of her yellow sundress to reveal to everyone watching that she was not wearing underwear.

She blushed furiously, and approached to slap Shinji, who shook his finger at her with a, "Ah-ah-ah! That's not a good idea!"

She didn't stop, and Shinji shrugged. "Your funeral."

Her hand impacted the side of his face, and he spun with the blow, driving a low roundhouse kick into her calf, dropping her to the deck, where he landed on her gut, knee first, and raised his manacled hands above his head to deliver a crushing blow to her skull.

Unfortunately for him, fortunately for everyone, one of those, 'screwed if you do, screwed if you don't,' type things for Shinji, his eyes being closed threw his aim off the tiniest bit, so that his blow, made somehow _more_ painful by the metal of the handcuffs, impacted her collarbone at decreased force, so instead of the crunch of bone breaking, he was treated to the snap of bone fracturing.

Shinji shrugged as he stood, leaving the Second limply on the deck, whimpering slightly, but not crying.

"Don't fuck with me, Nazi whore. I bite back." He nodded absentmindedly, and wandered off, already on his way to the bridge.

Had to figure out who the Admiral was, naturally. Not so easy with his eyes closed. But then, anything worth doing was worth working for.

So, to hell with the Second! That had been far too easy. Not worth it at all.

--

Shinji slid sideways into the bridge, having just walked rather painfully into the wall next to the door.

"Bonjour, comment ca va?"

Shinji stared. With his eyes still shut, but he managed to stare anyway. It was impressive.

"What. The. Hell?"

"Well, you must be Shinji Ikari. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You being?"

"My name, young one, is Ryouji Kaji. Not surprised I know your name?"

"I kill gigantic beings called Angels for a living. I pilot a… very large human-thingy. I defend the planet. Am I somehow unjustified in my assumption here?"

"Ahh, you _do_ have a wit!"

Shinji paused. "No, no I don't. I've just had this conversation too many times."

"Oh." Came the disappointed response.

"So, where's the CO of this little boat?"

Kaji laughed. "Don't let him hear you calling it that."

"Too late."

"Ahh! Admiral! I see. Have you met Kat-lady yet?"

"Who?"

"The Captain. What was her name? Katsur-poo-poo?"

Kaji almost laughed. It was funny. Except that 'Kat-lady' herself was standing behind Shinji.

It seemed she hadn't lost the nervous tic in her eye yet, he managed to observe before she exploded.

--

"So, Shinji. I'm told you can fight rather well. Tell me, what do you practice?"

Shinji's eyelids sort of flickered, as if he was blinking. "I used to do Kenpo, Kendo, JJ, and Ba Gua. Now I don't, I just do whatever I feel like. Did Muay Thai for a bit though. That was fun."

"Impressive résumé. Is there anything you'd like to call what you do now?"

"Yeah. Gun-do," Shinji replied, a snicker flickering over his features as the name left his lips.

Kaji smiled. "Would you mind giving me a demonstration?"

Shinji shrugged blandly. "I run the Range every thursday now, so if you want to watch, then's the time."

Abruptly his head turned, and he stared at the hull. Through his still closed eyelids, but…

"Something's coming."

Kaji's eyes opened slightly wider. "What?…" he managed before there was a shockwave and the sound of a geyser going off.

Shinji turned back to the man. "Angel."

Kaji kept his panic under control. "How do you know?"

"Couldn't hear a sub, nor a boat, nor an aircraft. Plus, this isn't the most expedient way of transporting an Eva." It was about this point Shinji realized that they were alone in the room, "You were expecting this, were you not?"

Kaji, knowing the boy wouldn't see, smirked deviously. "Yes, I guess the Commander was."

Shinji nodded agreeably. "I expect you have shit to do. I do too. So… FREAKOUT!" He bellowed, before zooming up the stairs, his bound hands extended in front of him.

Kaji shook his head at the surrealism. Evidently, Shinji watched a little too much TV…

--

"Hello-ooo! Would you like data on this enemy and how to defeat it?"

The Admiral glared back. "I want you off my bridge!"

Shinji shrugged blandly, having followed Kat-lady in, before walking up to the man.

"You do know that, in the case of an Angel attack, NERV controls more power than you, correct?"

"How did you know that?" The man demanded loudly.

"I didn't." Shinji announced, circling the seated man.

Once behind him, his hands whirled forward before jerking back towards himself, the chain of his manacles wrapping around the man's throat, pulling his head to Shinji's chest.

"You just told me." He twisted his head to face Kat-lady, and cheered, "Carry on then. He won't be interrupting."

****

END CHAPTER 

*Tribute to the End of the World (ebaum). I hold nothing against Australians. Honest.

Seppuku with a Frisbee: realultimatepower .net , remove the space.

Getting High Off Ajax: credit to Drug Wars 2 International, TI-83+ game.

Feh. Ended. I don't know if I'm going to be writing the Angel, or just skipping the narration. If I write it, expect changes to it. Right now, its 94 Fahrenheit, and I don't feel like thinking.


	10. Fight for Life

RichardRahl—Heh… nice one. While I don't particularly like Asuka, I don't_ hate _her either. Besides, I have plans for her. Though you'll have to wait a bit, methinks you're going to like the way Gendo dies… hehehehehehehehehehehe… Kazuo of Battle Royale might give you a hint if you've read the book…

legacyZero—not so much "insane stunts" as rampant stupidity in choosing his course of action.

A/N: "You're in my way! Back down!" "We are the Shigesuke Heima trained in the technique of Hokushin Itto-Ryu!" "I don't care!" Battousai-Kenshin then proceeds to slaughter all of them. heh…

Disclaimer: WTF? ^^ Who needs to read one of these to know that me no own?

||||||||||

Ocean Red

Chapter 10: Fight for Life…

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

||||||||||

Shinji calmly held the struggling man to his chest. His task was made easier by the way the chain was cutting off circulation to the man's brain, slowing the man's body.

He took a moment to ponder, and then loosened the chain slightly. Never know, might need the man conscious, after all. Then again… he absentmindedly tightened the chain. He could just kill the man now, and let the Captain take command of the fleet. Sure, it would probably be illegal…

But hell, that didn't stop anyone. Then again, she technically wasn't in the chain of command for the US fleet. He'd have to kill… well, more or less everyone before she got the command.

Nothing he'd actually object to, of course.

When the man started to go limp, he loosened the chain, to hear the ragged, gasping breath of someone who was trying to recover from being strangled.

Kat-lady was half-glaring at him; the other half of her attention was directed toward the… red and orange… Eva Unit 02.

"Goddamn! Did you intentionally hire _blind _designers?" Shinji wondered aloud. Not that he believed in god, but he thought it best to offend whatever higher powers existed if he wanted to blaspheme something. And if none existed, he succeeded in offending all religious idiots; enough reason for him to do it, though it was a bit less fulfilling.

Outside, the Eva Unit had just finished dropping its progressive knife into the deck of the carrier, which slid along the deck until it reached the bow, then raking down the side, reaching below the waterline.

Okay, so the carrier was going to sink. Oops.

In the meantime, Unit 02 was struggling with the whale like angel, which didn't look entirely unlike it had beached itself on the deck. Nevertheless, it was still trying to roll over, and thus crush the unlucky Eva.

Actually, upon further reflection, the Angel looked like an oversized dolphin. Well, a fat oversized dolphin with teeth straight out of a B-rated horror film. Furthermore, it was an off-bleach color that reminded Shinji of rotting meat. Damn ugly, in other words.

"Well, she just _sucks_ at fighting, doesn't she?" Shinji observed as Unit 02 was thrown from the ship.

Boredly he let the Admiral go completely, wandering away.

"Wait!" The Kat-lady shouted. "Where the _hell_ do you think you're going?"

Shinji glanced back. "Radio room. Gotta tell ayche-cue that the stupid bitch out there fucked up." He replied, slurring somewhat on HQ.

The purple haired woman bristled at the slur upon her friend. "Oh, like you would have done better?"

Shinji turned an empty, cold gaze at her. "First, I wouldn't have dropped the knife. Second, I wouldn't have let it survive long enough to knock me off the ship. And thirdly, if I had been knocked off, I would have blown the Eva up."

The sudden shift in demeanor, combined with the cold analysis of the situation and the declaration of his "suicide to win" tendencies temporarily struck the Ops-dee into silence. Long enough for Shinji to escape, at any rate.

"Misato!"

Her head whipped around at the Second's agonized scream. "Uh…Ideas anyone?"

Inside Unit 02, the German girl was shivering. Not from the cold, but from a mixture of anger, despair, and general distaste for the world. "Gott… damn… I'm not… losing… like… this…"

Her hands started pushing every button in the Eva in panic, exhibiting an interesting array of effects. A second prog knife fell from the open right shoulder pylon, which the girl desperately attempted to grab, but failed, small jets of propellant were released from both pylons, dragging her slightly closer to the Angel's core, in an agonizing offensive movement as the teeth tore at her. And then, most importantly, from the left shoulder pylon a spray of spikes fired at point blank range into the core.

The offensively platypus-like Angel convulsed once, before simply beginning to sink.

"D-damn…" Asuka whispered as she sank, clutched tightly in the jaws of the Angel.

"Reel in the cable!" Misato roared at the deckbound engineers.

--

Shinji yawned, seated as he was in the radio room. He hadn't actually intended to go there, but he had told Kat-lady that was where he was going, so to hell with it. He didn't really have anywhere to go.

Well, he could have jacked a VTOL, but he didn't want to bother with the whole, "I stole it to get my ass out of a potentially lethal situation," bullshit. And then there was the whole, "I don't know how to fly a VTOL," thing too. He made a mental note to force someone to teach him that.

Slowly he drifted off, the not-so-comforting hum of the radios lulling him into a not-so-fitful slumber.

The way he'd hooked his hands over an overhead pipe was comforting though. It was that more than anything else that helped him drift away.

--

Shinji stumbled off the ship, held at gunpoint by a somewhat unjustly ired Kat-lady. After all, he'd only minorly injured the German pilot. And he hadn't even caused lasting damage to the Head Honcho man.  So what was the problem here?

Had he asked Misato herself, she would have told him that she hated him, and never wanted to see him again, and furthermore that she would have gladly shot him on the spot if the Commander, in one of his fits of rather rare insight, her own words, not given her orders that she was not to touch the third child, nor injure him in any way, shape, or form, but that if he kept bothering her, he might find that her trigger finger didn't exactly listen to authority too well!

Whereupon, being out of breath, she would have fallen silent. As the grave. And Nodachi, being who he was, would have promptly aided in making that level of volume permanent, most likely by throwing her into the ocean, tying rocks to her feet, and parading her naked through the center of Tokyo-3 in hopes of killing her in shame. Not necessarily in that order, of course, but that would have been the end result of his actions.

However, at the moment, she was more along the sound of a full kettle on a hot stove. Which, quite naturally, put his thoughts in a reeling spin toward the idea of boiling people in oil. More specifically, along the lines of, //_Would their flesh slough off, or would it become like good leather? Or would it become tender and juicy? Like a good steak? Ouuu! Stakes! Burning stakes in their hearts!_// and such.

Absent-mindedly he began to finger the scar under his left eye, a nervous habit he hadn't yet fully managed to stop. Well, not so much _nervous_ as _automatic_. A nervous twitch would have been his finger on the trigger of a -- quite possibly smoking -- gun. As he had no gun, he was not twitching nervously.

Behind him, Kat-lady appeared to hesitate for a moment, which in a movie would have been a dramatic pause. In real life, however, it simply made her look crippled. She came to a decision, and ignoring all evidence of his nigh-supernatural ability to anticipate attacks, stepped closer to the boy, raising her gun as she did so.

And then in a lightning-fast movement, she brought it crashing down on the back of his head. Surprisingly enough, it connected.

Further surprisingly, Nodachi dropped to his knees as his eyes unfocused. Kat-lady stepped up to finish the job, unwisely putting her right foot between Shinji's calves.

As she raised the weapon, rearing back on her right leg, Nodachi's head whipped up so he was staring straight into her eyes.

Kat-lady had an instant to be afraid before the target threw his weight to the right, using his legs to trap the older woman's, and take her to the dirt.

Evidently the woman had never been taught how to fall, as she hit the ground shoulder-first with a whoosh of air being expelled from her lungs as the impact jarred her. She was vaguely aware that she had slid slightly upon hitting the ground, ripping the shoulder of her jacket, and scraping the flesh beneath. She was, however, distracted by her sudden inability to breathe properly, and struggled to draw breath into her collapsed lungs.

So it was fairly understandable that she didn't notice Nodachi until he was sitting on her, his knees to either side of her ribs, his hands -- still cuffed -- raised above his head. Fear paralyzed her as she saw his hands begin to descend. Oddly enough, in the face of her demise, she did not see her life flash before her eyes, nor did time seem to slow.

Then his hands slammed into her chest at a point between her breasts and above the lower tip of her sternum, and her body arced in pain. For an instant there was nothing, and then her lungs flooded with air just in time for her to scream. It felt like there was a double-hand shaped dent in her chest, and for an instant she had the irrational thought that the pain was going to kill her. Then she passed out.

'Dachi stood, pushing Misato's unconscious body with his foot. He shrugged, before tugging sharply on his cuffs, breaking them, and stretching. "Never," he told the body, "ever do anything like that again. Because next time I _will_ kill you. Ops-dee or not." For sadistic pleasure, he kicked her hard enough to send her rolling before he walked away.

Several streets, two lost Section-2 agents, and one mugger with a broken neck and no wallet later, 'Dachi nodded to a group of shadows that detached themselves from the wall and slid over to stand next to him.

"Enough with the moronic dramatic entrances Shuri!" He snapped, before kicking her in the ankle for good measure.

Shuri hopped around for a moment, before stalking back toward him and stomping hard on his foot. 'Dachi sniggered, and his fist glanced off her shoulder hard enough to send her reeling away.

In retaliation, Shuriken pounced upon her laughing prey, shooting for, and getting, her arms around his legs just above the knees, before dumping him onto his back as she straightened up. A small grin tugged at the corners of her ice-blue lips as she stared at the downed boy.

Who scowled darkly at her and, in a variation of the move he had used on Kat-lady, rolled, dropping Shuriken onto her face. This time, however, he ended up on sitting on her ass, hugging her leg. Cheerfully ignoring the people trying to break the fight up, he began to lean backward.

Shuriken's face writhed in pain, and she twisted, hammering her left fist deep into 'Dachi's kidney, furthermore lifting him bodily from his position, and sending him to skid across the concrete. In a move reminiscent of Capeoria, and break-dancing, she continued the turn, catching the ground with her left palm, and shoving off with her right hand hard enough to bring her to her feet.

Several feet away, 'Dachi began to coil his body as if he was going to go straight from resting on his shoulders to standing on his feet by doing that jumping thing, before rolling over his head, coming up into a low three-point position, quite like the kind runners rested against the starting block in.

There was an instant in which both were still, ignoring the people crowd around them (some of whom were taking bets on who would win the fight, while at the same time physically assaulting anyone trying to call the police).

Then Shuriken lunged, throwing herself into a jumping sidekick, something both had been taught to never do. Possibly she was hoping that surprise at the total idiocy of her action would stall 'Dachi long enough for her to hit him.

If she was, she was wrong. The boy stepped to the side, and caught her foot as she neared him, using her momentum to spin and slingshot her back the way she came, sending her crashing headfirst into a lamppost, bending it at an awkward angle.

The girl coughed as she pushed herself to her knees, before spitting out something that shone silvery in the light. It hit the ground, and was revealed to be an American quarter. With teeth marks. It had been her chew toy as a small child, and she'd kept it. Bracing her hand against her knee as she stood, she dusted herself off before grinning at Nodachi.

He grinned back, revealing most of his teeth, and began to saunter toward his half.

Who promptly lashed out, aiming a kick at his groin. It hit solidly, though there wasn't quite the effect one would expect.

There was a sound like a bell ringing, and 'Dachi's face twisted oddly. Shuriken, on the other hand, dropped to the sidewalk, clutching her shin as she rolled around, vocalizing her pain in a set of rather extensive curses, mostly involving her forgetting that 'Dachi had a tendency to wear a brass Protector, on the off chance that he ever got into a game of Ro Shambo.*

Well, the other person wouldn't be standing long enough to retaliate, but that was beside the point.

His face still contorted oddly, Shinji stepped over to the screaming girl, and jerked her roughly to her feet by her upper arm. The girl spat on his shoe, saliva mixed with blood, and he nodded cheerfully.

"Accepted in the spirit in which it is given." He replied cheerfully. That was something the Ancient One had taught them, to acknowledge the victor by offering them their water. They didn't know it was originally from a book entitled _Dune_, or that the Ancient One was literate, for that matter. Mostly because they were close enough to illiterate that they hadn't actually considered the possibility that he would be.

And then the pair limped away from the scene, after retrieving the coin, ignoring the rampant discussion on who exactly had won. Some said that the boy had won; he had after all tossed her into a pole. Some said the girl had won; she had after all been able to spit on his shoe and get away with it.

Another fight broke out between the two factions, and this was the fight the police arrived to find in progress.

--

'Dachi rapped Shuri's head admonishingly.

"You know I wear a Protector. So, whyja do it?" He inquired conversationally.

She responded by slamming her fist into his gut, laughing as he doubled over, the air blasted from his lungs. He mumbled something incoherent, before whirling, dropping his ass so his back was straight while not changing the height his shoulders were at, and rammed his elbow into her lower back, somewhere between the spinal column and her kidney.

She stumbled, still off-balanced from being thrown into a metal lamppost, and lashed out with a roundhouse kick that would have made a Muay Thai practitioner turn green with envy. It never connected, as Nodachi caught it and twisted sharply, dumping Shuriken onto her back, before stomping on the inner thigh of her left leg.

As his booted foot rammed rather painfully into the cluster of nerves, Shuri hissed, then drawing a knife, which plunged into the material of Dachi's pants, mercifully missing flesh. At first, at least. For she then slashed inward, the blade cutting through his sock, and biting into his shinbone before sticking.

Nodachi yelped, hissed as he stepped off her, and then stomped on her wrist, being rewarded by a crunch as the bones fractured. Shuri screamed, loud enough to force Dachi away, her voice slashing ruthlessly through his oversensitive ears, before she ripped the knife from his leg and stabbed him again. This time, pinning his foot to the stairwell.

Dark blue eyes dropped to the weapon sticking out of his foot, the spreading crimson puddle, and more importantly, _the hole in his boot!_

Cold eyes flickered up at the girl, before he reached down and ripped the weapon from his flesh. For a moment he stared at the hole, before flexing his toes.

Then he gripped the knife by the blade and simply crushed it. Shards of metal pierced his skin, though more shards simply cascaded to the floor, sparkling in a deadly manner. His hand opened, and blood dripped slowly to the stairs, staining the shining metal.

His eyes turned upward to Shuriken, and in his eyes she saw a promise of her imminent demise. //_Oh, hell_// she thought, //_Not good._//

Jerkily the boy twisted the leather off his wrist, and before Shuriken's eyes began to change.

Nodachi's head elongated, even as it flattened, distorting his features as his skin stretched, and for an instant his skull jutted from between his lips, bleached teeth and bone, before his skin caught up. Even as it did so, his eyes slid behind a covering of skin, so that where sockets had been an instant before, only bloodstained bone could be seen. His eyelids closed, and the disappeared to open over the new position of his eyes, revealing the slatted pupils.

His body dropped to hug the stairs as his knees reversed their joints, and his five toes became two. Before his hands even impacted the plaster, the first two, and the last two fingers had merged; giving him three unnaturally long digits, tipped with rapidly growing fingernails. His skin took on a greyish hue as the six fingers dug furrows in the weakened material.

His entire body stretched, thinning as it did so, revealing that his ribs had molded into one single armor-like plate, before muscle writhed into being over it. Though it was nearly impossible to see, all his meat had melted away from his form for that instant, leaving him a skeleton, before muscle knotted into place. His shirt tore, his thickening neck too much for it, and the rest was ripped as his arms mounted themselves lower than the cloth could tolerate, with regards to his head. His spine stood out in stark relief, and if one looked closely they would see that the armor-like rib only attached to it in one place.

Pants tore as a chorded tail sliced through them, lashing about wildly as it exulted in freedom, denting the walls deeply.

And only then did his ears fade, and skin cover the place the holes had been formerly, though his mop of dirty hair remained. Pale at first, almost non-existent, as scale pattern began to fade in on his skin, though it never changed to actual scales.

And Shuriken found herself looking at one very, very pissed off Living Weapon.

**End Chapter**

Yeah. Here it is. You see a Saevrok. Shinji Ikari, Nodachi, Saevrok, Third Child, The Sin Within the Sin.

Do whatever. Review if it pleases you.

* Ro Shambo--ignoring my butchery of spelling, this is a game where two guys get together, and start kicking each other in the crotch. Suffice to say, it hurts. See the need for the Protector?


	11. BoomBoom

RichardRahl—Battle Royale is number 1 on my "books everyone must read" list. And there are only something like three books on that list. I have a rough sketch of 'Dachi-weapon, but I ain't got a scanner, nor webspace to upload it at. Feh.

Gopu—Thankiies.

Gambit1—Ja, mien Feuer! And props on SC Evangelion. Great story. I'd drop a review, but my computer's a-hatin' on FF.N right now, so I can't. Apologies.

legacyZero—Trucked and ready!

A/N: Oook. Man, Nightwish is a great band. Red Mage owns your soul. Ah, yes. As to Shinji's classes. First off, he _can't _be in physics. First you have to take Chemistry, and that isn't offered until High School. Shinji is in class 2-A, the equivalent of seventh or eighth grade. Furthermore, he's fourteen. And my Shinji's a moron, but that's not the point. My Shinji probably shouldn't even be in class 2, but that's unavoidable. In addition, they could not have defeated the Larvae angel the way they did. Things get _denser_ when they get cooler, therefore the Prog Knife would have had even _more_ trouble penetrating the core. That was just stupid. The only way that could have worked was if the molecules in the core were so hyperactive that they were forming sort of a self-restoring barrier against the prog knife, but the good doctor claimed it was simply dense. And another angel! Why in the name of _God_ did Asuka block the acid with the Eva's back, when the back is the place where the plug is? God, she's stupid.

Explanation of why Shinji is a member of the JSSDF, despite being below the legal age. The Ancient One is a member. He… threw his weight around and belabored various people into letting Shinji and Shuri' in.

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Ocean Red

Chapter 11: Boom-Boom

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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"Ooops," Shuriken muttered as she cautiously stepped back from the enraged, gargantuan lizard. She was extremely careful to remember that she was six stairs up from a landing.

That, however, was enough to set the beast off, and it pounced, catching her leg as she tried to dodge. She hit the landing and curled up, automatically protecting Nodachi's favorite targets on a downed enemy. The targets being specifically one's eyes, fingers, toes, stomach, and the jugular and carotid arteries.

One three-fingered hand wrapped around a clump of her hair, and jerked her head back, exposing her neck. For an instant Shuriken was certain that she was going to die.

The long, forked tongue that flickered out and lapped at her face reinforced this idea, and the hiss that followed was positively malicious in origin. Her eyes peeked open, determined to glare at Death.

To be smacked in the face with the almost physical force of the stench of his breath. "God damn you to hell!" The saurian manic crouched over her hissed. "Now," it continued in a low snarl, "I have to go to the fucking _mall_ to get a new pair of boots!"

There was a brief instant in which Shuri's mind attempted to come to grips with the fact that no, her blood was not squirting from a gaping hole in her throat, and no, she was not dead. She made a mental note to never damage 'Dachi's boots again. Ever.

And then he was gone, having skittered back up the stairs to his band, and then out onto the floor of the apartment, where he slithered to the door and admitted himself.

And though she remained still on the landing, she resolved further. That damned rat -- lizard, rather -- bastard would pay for scaring the shit out of her like that!

And lo, Shuriken did plot her most insidious revenge, and the Lord looked upon it and trembled in fear. Neither heaven nor hell hath wrath like that of a Shuriken ired.

--

Asuka sighed as she sat down in her apartment. For whatever reason, her _beloved_ Kaji-sama had declined to come along on a shopping spree, and she had been rapidly bored by looking around alone.

She shuddered violently as she shifted her arm, sending a wave of pain shooting up from her fractured collar. Shinji Ikari was, no doubt about it, a complete and total _asshole_. The _shei__ßekoph _even had the gall to strike her!

She refused to admit that there was a very remote possibility that he had simply been better than her. He had obviously cheated, he was obviously a low-down dirty, cowardly, back-stabbing loser. And above all, he was an idiot. He had struck his superior! Inexcusable! It would _not_ happen again.

Her lips curled in a derisive sneer. Next time she saw him, she'd make sure he knew who was boss.

She flopped back with a sigh. Why oh why wouldn't Kaji-sama notice her? Was it for another woman?

//_I'll kill her!_// She screeched mentally. No one stole _her_ property. _No one_.

--

Misato gaped at the Commander. "_What?_" She yelped shrilly, temporarily and conveniently forgetting that he was her superior, and that she therefore had no right to question his orders.

The man glared from behind his tinted glasses. "I ordered you to take the Third Children along with you on your trip to see the Japan's Heavy Chemical Industrial's Jet Alone. You may or may not need his aid, but if what I believe is true then you will… be grateful for his aid."

"_Sir_," she pleaded, "I _can't_ take him with me! Having him at the conference would weaken our military appearance!" She was begging at this point, doing anything and everything in her power to dodge the responsibility of having the dumbass with her.

The dark man smirked, though it was hidden by his hands, folded in front of his face as they were. "On the contrary, it will only strengthen our position. Though it was a bit difficult, I have managed to obtain his service records."

Misato looked up in confusion. _Service? _"Service, sir?"

"Yes," the man agreed. "If his records have not been falsified, and I very much doubt they have, he technically outranks you."

_What?_ She mentally screamed. "_What?_" She verbally screamed.

"The Third Children outranks you, Captain. Not only is he a Pilot of an Evangelion, a position much more indispensable than your own, he is a ranking member of the Japanese Strategic Self Defense Force." The man decided to twist the knife a bit more. "Don't attempt to hide it from me, Captain, I know of your assault on him after docking with Unit Two. I would highly recommend you never make such an attempt again, as I have authorized him to use lethal force in defending himself."

Misato moaned in a mix of apprehension, terror, and despair.

--

Shinji grinned widely as he watched the depressed woman approach him. "Yes Kat-lady?" He inquired in an innocent tone of voice, though his grin was anything but.

She moaned in anxiety, and looked like she was about to burst into tears. Shinji grinned wider, if such a thing was possible. Man, this was fun. "Is there something you need my services for?" He resisted the urge to add, 'woman'.

She whimpered as she glared at him. "You have been ordered," she began ponderously, obviously frustrated. "To accompany me to the testing of the Jet Alone. Be ready tomorrow morning. A dress uniform if you have one."

Nodachi bared his teeth at her. "Right then."

Misato fled, chased by Nodachi's hysterical laughter.

--

'Dachi stepped out of the bathroom, having taken a shower for the first time in weeks. Which wasn't to say he hadn't been cleaned, no, he had wandered around in the rain several times, but he hadn't actually taken a shower in the time. He was dressed in his dress uniform, black slacks, black silk blouse, black dress jacket with silver lining, and his rank and regiment symbols on the lapel. His identification tag read, "Nodachi," rather than his birth name, because it was the name he had been registered as. His dog tags rested on top of the blouse, the first time in years that he had worn them. His hair was, for once, neatly combed; slicked back, making his features seem more angular than ordinary.

He wore no tie, mostly because he didn't know how to tie one, but also because he hated the sensation of a noose. Spring mounted in his sleeves rested his Walthers, ready to drop into his hands when the correct snapping motion was made. Inside the concealed pockets of the jacket his switchblades rested, invisible to a cursory inspection, and only if a very detailed inspection was run would the way the fabric stretched because of the extra weight become apparent. Of course, if someone knew it was there, it was fairly hard to miss, but otherwise it was nigh-undetectable.

For shoes he had a pair of black combat boots, ones that he used exclusively for this sort of thing, so they were in almost impeccable condition. Indeed, he had gone so far as to reapply the polish to them, so they shone in the semi-darkness.

Shuriken looked up, grunted, "You look like an idiot," and looked back down.

'Dachi nodded. "It's the hair, isn't it?" He asked rhetorically. Well, as rhetorically as he ever got. Linguistics weren't his field of choice.

Shooting people was.

He promptly ruffled his hair so it stuck out at all angles, giving him a vaguely afro-like look. Shuriken looked up again. "It'd look better in orange," she announced, before finally starting to clean her SOCOM.

'Dachi nodded agreeably, before the screeching of tires alerted him to the fact that his ride was there.

He shrugged, pulled a quarter from behind Shuriken's ear, and meandered out of the apartment, ignoring the girl's scowl. It wasn't that she was being left behind, because she wasn't. It was that he got to have all the fun, whereas she had to wait for something to go wrong before she could have any. Damned lizard.

--

Shinji yawned as he put his feet on the immaculate tablecloth, pushing his chair backward on two legs. He grinned at the looks of disgust directed at him by the elegant patrons of the assembly. He wasn't here to impress them; he was here to keep order. Well, officially he was. He was here to have fun. Piss a few people off.

He twiddled the coin between his fingers, more or less ignoring the proceedings. Beaurocratic bullshit that it was. Sure it was true that he technically wasn't allowed to interfere with the activation, but he didn't care about that. One more thing to blow up if it worked.

"Good afternoon, welcome to this demonstration of Japan Heavy Chemical Industrial's new product. Thank you for attending.

Shinji didn't bother concealing his second huge yawn, drawing further looks of distaste. Kat-lady and Blondie edged away from him, not so hard to do, as they were the only three people at the table.

"You will be observing the official demonstration in the control room, but first we'll be taking your questions here."

Blondie stood, raising a hand, "Yes."

"Ahh," the snobbish man made a gesture of appreciation, "The famous Dr. Ritsuko Akagi. It is our honor to have you here."

"Thank you, may I ask you a question?" She inquired politely.

"Of course," the man responded enthusiastically, "certainly!"

"According to our earlier briefing, this unit is equipped with an internal nuclear reactor, correct?" She demanded.

"Yes, this is one of our product's most distinguished features. One hundred fifty days of consecutive operating power is assured." He retaliated smugly.

Shinji snarled. This was beginning to annoy him. //_Give me an excuse. Just give me one excuse. I dare you._//

"But from a safety perspective, isn't incorporating a nuclear reactor into a weapon designed for hand-to-hand combat risky?" Point: Blondie.

"It's better than a weapon that won't work for over five minutes." He retaliated.

"But in an emergency there could be problems with remote control."

"Still it's more humane than a system that induces great mental stress, and causes mental instability. I believe we have one of the pilots here?" He announced, a superior smirk twitching his lips.

Kat-lady mumbled something about children.

"And there's still the issue of manual control." One question? Shinji wondered. More like a battalion of them.

"A weapon that cannot be controlled is insane. I believe it is better than an extremely dangerous weapon piloted by a child with a psyche-report like this," he said smugly, lifting a folder with 'CLASSIFIED' and 'TOP SECRET' stamped across it in large red capital letters. He let it fall open.

It was Shinji's psychiatric profile.

Both of the boy's wrists snapped as he grinned. //_Thank you._// The gun in his right hand discharged once, blowing a hole in the folder and mostly severing the man's ring finger.

Shinji slowly unfurled himself keeping one P99 trained on the man, the other sweeping the crowd. Slowly he marched forward, smiling charismatically at the man as he waited for Shuriken.

"You!" The man exploded, curled over in pain, "You're not allowed to interfere!"

"I beg to differ." Shinji offered. "I hope you know exactly how much shit you're in. You see, my psychiatric evaluation is classed at _Magic _level clearance. There are exactly six people alive with that level of clearance. You can be court-martialed, be imprisoned for a life sentence, executed, and tried for treason for even knowing that report exists."

He glared at Shuriken as she melted out of the shadows huddling against the back of the stage. "Took you long enough," he snapped irritably.

She shrugged idly. "You handled it."

He raised the firearm that wasn't trained on the man toward the ceiling, "As of now this operation is under the control of the Japanese Strategic Self Defense Force. This facilty is also under our control. No one is allowed to leave. Any objections?"

One of the man's bodyguards stepped forward. "You have no authori—" He fell silent as a nine-millimeter round ripped through his skull.

"Any others?" Nodachi asked again. None came.

"Good. As for you," he kicked the man in the side. "You are confined to wherever the hell you can be confined here. The test will proceed."

--

'Dachi ignored the activation, for the most part. It wasn't until shit started going wrong that he looked up.

"It's not stopping!"

Panic spread throughout the room as people started to run from the front of the room where the viewscreen. Useless, as the foot of the giant mecha crushed the ceiling, sending chunks of plaster and concrete falling, crushing many of the inhabitants. Blood sprayed as the foot crushed whatever remained of their bodies before continuing it's destructive swath through the base.

Kat-lady forced herself to her feet, coughing as the dust filled her lungs.

"Oh my god!" Someone yelped, "It's heading straight for Tokyo Three!"

"Ohmigawd!" Shuriken mocked. "Shut up. It won't reach."

"What do you mean?" Kat-lady exploded.

Shinji waved vaguely at the hexagonal display. "Well, red's usually bad. And it's spreading damn fast on that thingy. It can't be that close to Tokyo Three that in another couple of minutes it'll reach the outskirts."

A technician glanced up. "What the… The Jet Alone's reactor is overloading! It's gonna blow!"

Nodachi glared in exasperation. "So what?"

Someone with the presence of mind to think straight would have known what he was talking about. This man didn't. "The nuclear reactor has a blast radius of a good three miles! Total nuclear fallout!"

'Dachi sighed. "I repeat: So what? We can't do shit about it. It won't hit the city."

"If it blows the entire area is going to be so hot nothing can enter it for the next twenty years!"

Shuriken stepped forward, leveling her SOCOM at the man's skull. "I said, _shut up!_"

Kat-lady stepped forward, decisively shouting, "We have to do something!"

Nodachi smiled coldly as Shuriken's gun switched targets. "I don't think you understand _Captain_, you cannot leave the area."

"I order you to let me leave!" She snapped.

Shuriken's finger tightened on the trigger. "You do _not_ have any authority here. This place is under the control of the jay es es dee ef. You are staying right where you are."

And so, five miles outside of the eastern border of the now fully locked down Tokyo-3, the faulty machine detonated. The reactor's full fury ravaged the countryside, stripping it of vegetation, flattening a mountain, and spreading the unstable atoms around the area.

And further away, in his workshop of horrors, the Ancient One received the news of what his prodigies had done.

And Wakizashi laughed.

**END CHAPTER**

Yeah. I did it. I let the Jet Alone blow on the outskirts of Tokyo-3. And we get a glimpse of the Ancient One. He owns your soul. 

Review, flame, praise, unleash the fiery bowels of cheese-hell on me. Whatever. 


	12. Advancement

C^rrot—Well, I was thinking more along the lines of Arizona, but… . Asuka? Nah. Shuri don't know she exists. Yet. Bwuahahaha… Yes. The Ancient One has been named! Will we see more of him? Most _definitely_. Soon? That's up in the air at the moment. He's pissed at 'Dachi and Shuri' at the moment, so if he shows up there's gonna be a bit of bloodshed. And yes, he is going to be an incredibly significant figure at some point. Now, I'm not saying what he's gonna do, or when he's gonna do it, but it'll be before Third Impact, and after the Twelfth, unless I decide on another part for him to play at some point. Then again, he might visit for no particular reason. He's random.

D14852001—Yeah. The JA was sabotaged. We're never explicitly told whom, but it's heavily implied that Ritsuko had something to do with it. I had to watch the ep again to get most of the conversation. Large parts of the programming were deleted, and the cooling rods were extracted, which was why it went all melt-downy. It was sabotaged here too, though I altered the test area and a couple other minor details.

RichardRahl—Yeah. You can own my soul. Not like I use it anyway. .

ignorantly grinning—Yeah. Jet Alone go boom. Nothing go there for twenny year!

Gopu—While I don't _aim_ to please, I hit the target anyway. Luck.

Ayden—Shinji's people-phobic when it doesn't involve lotsa blood. Buying a tie would also involve communicating with people. On the flip side, if he wanders in, he's going to be carrying a little bit of that nitro-shit I had in his bag.

Gambit01—Oh yeah. P99's rock my world almost as much as Mirielle. 

Bsdisaster—Intentions? I just felt like putting Living Weapons (not a pseudo-religious cult, more like a sub-species… or something. I'm not clear on the details. No one but Our Lady Itch is) in NGE. My skewed sadistic humor factors in somewhere. You'll see when you (if you) read the EoE (if I ever get that far…) for this. Fascism? Possibly, I guess. I dunno. I was making stuff up. Some things to serious to make fun of? Maybe, but doesn't that go to show how twisted our dear little Nodachi is? Besides, Hitler was a genius. I expect you're going to hate the JA goin' boom when you get to it though. Besides that, all it means is "yes my leader, Mistress Shuriken!" If I knew the phrase in Russian or Italian, I would have used it there. But I don't. So I didn't.

A/N: Ook. Gotta kill, gotta kill.

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Ocean Red

Chapter 12: Advancement

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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One Shinji Ikari looked up at the purple-haired woman glaring at him from the floor where he was seated. "Ook." He announced curiously. It was also a signal to Shuriken to get her arse over to his area.

"How dare you!" She exploded angrily, "What gives you the right to let the Jet Alone explode like that? _What gives you the right?_"

Shinji tapped the nametag on his chest cheerfully. "This does!" He snapped his wrist fluidly, sliding the weapon around to train on her face. "And this!" He broke into ecstatic giggling. He didn't notice that one Doctor Akagi watching cautiously.

The woman started to reach down for his weapon. "You are _not_ allowed to be armed pilot!"

Shinji waved the gun in her face as he whipped a knife out from the inside of his jacket. "Nuh-uh-uh! Back or I shall stab you in the eye with Excess Punctuation!" He exclaimed in his best 'I'm on so many drugs I'm in the stratosphere' voice. Oddly enough, across the blade of the knife 'Excess Punctuation' had been inscribed in a loose scrawl.

It was, unfortunately for Kat-lady, at this point that Shuriken decided to make herself known. She did this in her usual fashion after something had gone so _incredibly _right, with great care and consternation.

"Sos! Who you? Mesa Shuuu-riken!" She squealed in Kat-lady's ear, drawing her name out over a good ten seconds.

The purple-haired woman stumbled backward, trying to get out of the impressive range of Shuri's lungs, clutching at her head in pain. 'Dachi absentmindedly slashed her nigh-stiletto heel in half as she stumbled past him, dropping her to the floor with a loud grunt.

Cloaked in shadows, and for that matter wrinkled shadows, Blondie raised one eyebrow. That was… _different_… She gave a mental shrug. The Commander would certainly be interested in this.

(: :)

Nodachi pulled the catch back, snapping the used cartridge from the chamber, and pushed it forward again, loading a new one. Once again he pressed his eye to the scope, centering the target. A face appeared for an instant over the head of the target, and the boy's lips parted in a snarl as he exhaled and pulled the trigger again.

Another thumb-sized hole appeared in the head of the target, where its right eye would have resided had it been human. The pale boy stepped away from the course as he popped the used casing from the chamber, and shoved the chamber closed again. The gun was, unfortunately, empty. Something was going to die tonight.

With uncharacteristic roughness, he shoved the gun back onto its rack, before turning to wander over to the course. He could feel the weight of the NERV issued pistol sitting comfortably against his side; butt forward for easy drawing with either hand. Absentmindedly he snatched another firearm off the rack as he passed, only later stopping to identify it as a Walther PPK, brother to his pistol of choice, made famous by James Bond.

He walked into the sliding door twice before he realized that it was _not_ going to open. Baffled he looked up to see that the white on red 'Course in use' light was on. Obliviously he wandered over to the observation window, curious as to who was going to die for interrupting his relief session.

It was somehow unsurprising to him that it was the longhaired hippie techie. Perhaps he'd kill the man with a noose made of his hair? That would certainly have a sense of ironic justice. Then again, it might just be amusing. He'd have to ask Shuriken. She'd know. She generally did.

The thought didn't bother him.

Not nearly as much as the man who was interrupting his stress relief was.

Briefly the boy considered remaining stressed until the old bastard arrived. That would certainly be… _interesting_, if not a particularly wise course of action. After all, the man did have that tendency to crush all resistance without giving much of a damn about who it was. Then again, it might impress him.

Right. Even the boy knew the odds of that were so low they could only be measured by something entitled the 'Infinite Improbability Device'.

Of course, if anyone had said that phrase to him, he would have stared at them in abject confusion. He may have, somewhere deep in the darkness of the back of his mind, coated with dust, cobwebs, and probably covered with a rug, had a vague idea of the concept of infinity. Improbability went one step further, if it existed, doubtful though that idea was, it would be buried somewhere inside the wall of the darkest, dustiest, corner of his skull.

Device was easy though. Even if he couldn't spell it.

A whine alerted him to the fact that he could now enter the gun course, and that the hippie guitarist had left.

Nevertheless, he waited a bit for the course to re-supply itself, after punching in the model number on his weapons and his NERV ID code. All this dictated was the difficulty settings, danger levels, and the type of ammunition scattered along the course. It was, startlingly, divided into several different styles. Indoor, urban, forest, desert, plains, and amphibious being a few of the divisions. NERV (and by extension, SEELE) spared no expense upon the training of their agents.

And, impressively, they had managed to contain the entire course into a three kilometer cubic area.

None of which mattered to Nodachi, as he slid into the course, heading resolutely for the indoor section of the course.

He just wanted to blow something up. Fuck everything else.

(: :)

"Did you instruct Ikari?"

The seated man smiled behind his hands. It wasn't a nice smile, but then it wasn't a particularly malevolent one either. It was just a smile that had one purpose: to express disdain for the inferior intellect of other people.

It was a smile generally reserved for megalomaniacs and dictators. Perfectly in place, in other words.

"No." He responded coldly.

The blonde woman frowned. "Am I to understand, then, that the pilot's performance was of his own free will?"

The smile widened. "You are not to understand."

She sighed and nodded. "I see."

"The plan worked then?" He inquired of the second man in the room.

"Yessah." The response was slurred drunkenly, though he wasn't drunk. He just enjoyed being irritating. After all, that was why he did what he did. Well, he _did_ want to know the truth, but that was merely a bonus.

"Stop that."

"Yes sir." Though the response was appropriately meek, his voice was tinged with amusement. The smile was gone in an instant, replaced by a frown.

"Where is the Third Child currently?"

A quick consultation with a clipboard. "If his patterns hold true, he is probably with that girl. That or he's in the armory somewhere."

A nod. "Check the armory. If he's in the course, wait for him to come out and send him to me. If he's with the girl, we'll just have to wait."

The second, stubbly-faced man exited.

After a long moment, his cold voice broke the silence. "Yes?"

The blonde shifted nervously, ashamed of herself for acting like a schoolgirl at a time like this. "Are… we still on for…"

A snarl of disgust flitted across the man's face for a brief moment. Carnal pleasures. How disgusting.

"Eleven. Leave the door unlocked."

She fled, unable to banish the relieved expression from her eyes, though it did not show in the rest of her features.

(: :)

Misato sat on her mattress, curled up around Pen-Pen.

"The apartment seems kinda empty, doesn't it Pen?" She asked the penguin.

The waterfowl warked in response. Meaning, 'It's perfect the way it is!'

"I thought so. Heyyy… what do you say to this? I think maybe I should take Asuka in. After all, she needs someone to stay with, and I have so much extra room."

Another wark. In penguin, this meant something along the lines of 'Terrible idea! Worst thing I've ever heard!'

Misato knew none of this. Few people were, after all, fluent in penguin. And she was not one of them. "Shinji? _Hell_ no. He scares the shit out of me."

She gripped the penguin tighter at the mere thought of the junior psychopath under her roof.

It warked in a panic and started flapping its wings in an attempt to escape the death-grip.

  
Misato took this as a cue to squeeze tighter still.

(: :)

"Ye wanted to see me, o bearded one?" 'Dachi inquired.

The black-garbed man stood. "Yes. I have a job for you."

'Dachi nodded. "What kind?"

The commander strode over to the window into the geofront. "I want someone dead."

Shinji brightened visibly. "Who-when-where-open or closed?"

The rapid-fire questions temporarily confused the man. "Expand."

Shinji rolled his eyes. "Who do you want dead, when do you want him dead, where do you want him dead, do you want an open or closed casket funeral?"

Comprehension dawned. Well, actually it rose like a shooting star falls. But in the opposite direction. Because, as everyone knows, dawn takes a while to… well, dawn. "The family of Mayumi Tendo. I don't care when, as long as it gets done, and doesn't interfere with your duties as a pilot. Preferably a public place and I want everyone to know, without being able to prove, that it was by NERV. And it would be nice to be a closed casket funeral."

Shinji's forehead wrinkled in thought. Tendo… Ah, yes. She was in 3-B. And her family was rather opposed to the killing of Angels.

Well then. Simple enough.

"Can I get some information? Specifically, where they live, names, workplaces, and associates?"

Professional Killing was, after all, something one had to be very thorough in. "Actually," the boy added, "If you can find out if they have any relatives elsewhere; that would be nice too. I dislike having idiots coming for revenge. 'Cos then I risk being found out, and such." At the skeptical look, he added, "Not that I have a problem with killin' them. 'S jes' thae they drawl 'tenshion."

The confused look drew clarification and a nod. He liked that accent, for whatever reason resided in the labyrinthine maze he called his brain. "They draw attention when they try to kill me. Doesn't much help when the vanish right afterward."

An understanding nod.

"I see. I will permit you access to the files."

'Dachi nodded, and began to meander out of the room.

(: :)

Shuriken was practically bouncing around the room, delighted with the news delivered to her cot.

_He_ was coming. The Lord, the Master, the Shogun, the God, the Tyrant, the Dictator, the Divine Omnipotence… the list went on.

And _He_ was coming!

Even the stubbornness of the water, refusing to tell her anything of use, couldn't dampen her spirits.

Nothing could. _He _was coming, after all.

**End Chapter**

Yatta yatta yatta. Setupage, and whatnot.


	13. To The Black

Adyen—Before you go saying things like that, show me where I _once_ used the word assassin. Did I? No. I even used the phrase _Professional Killing_. In short: 'Dachi doesn't even consider that killing someone for someone else _might_ be assassination. And besides:

Jonathan Shim—Not that I see anything morally wrong with the use of fag as an insult… what the fuck am I talking about? If you've got a problem with homosexual people, take them elsewhere.

A/N: Hmm… while FF.N is saying that I have seventy-two reviews… only sixty-eight of them are actually showing up. Garners a WTF? Nor did I get review alerts for them, so… yeah. Apologies and whatnot. "Take me out, to the black, tell them I ain't comin' back, I don't care, I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me…" Opening song from Firefly. "Point of Interest: offering to shoot us might not work as well as an incentive as you might think." Mal. I wonder if this "Shan Yu" was a real person… "Ah, the pitter patter of tiny feet in huge combat boots…" Mal. "I am a large, semi-muscular man!" Wash

Ocean Red

Chapter 13: To The Black

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

No one noticed when the pale man stepped off the monorail. To them, he was just one more faceless person in a faceless crowd. Each, of course, was unique in their own way.

Every snowflake is unique. But no one bothers to notice the individual snowflake when it's among uncounted others.

He cut his way through the crowd, standing below most of them by half a head. His neatly pressed suit draped from his form loosely, in much the same way that they might on a child dressed up in his father's clothes. A dark blue hat topped his grey locks, slightly too large for him, and it persisted in falling over his eyes, forcing him to push it back up. Surrounded as he was, he felt as though the only way anyone in the crowd was moving was toward him, though he knew that was wrong, that both directions had more or less equal traffic, he couldn't shake the idea.

He gazed blurrily out of dark eyes, clutching his briefcase in both hands.

For all appearances, he was just one more lost and alone soul.

To two individuals in the city, however, he meant everything. And the instant he stepped off of the train, something was set into motion. An insidious idea planted itself in the back of his mind as he considered the sprawling representation of human triumph over nature.

His head tilted as the mechanical feminine sounding Japanese PA system rang loudly in the crowded terminal. "Please note that visitors should retrieve their belongings from the Third belt."

A thin smile quirked his lips as he observed that nothing had been added about the radiation hot zone shortly outside of the east border. It was, admittedly, something fairly difficult to miss. News was blaming it on Heavy Chem. Industries, though he shouldn't have expected anything else, an organization such as NERV didn't exactly survive by letting the news run wild.

The man continued out of the station, a breeze catching his jacket, blowing it back momentarily to reveal the end of something metallic reaching out of the leg of his slightly wrinkled pants.

His feet would lead him toward his "children's" apartment.

--

Shinji bowed to the man before him. Tendo was something of a traditionalist, a tendency that pissed the boy off to no end. It had nearly taken him a week to meet him after faking curiosity in Mayumi's beliefs, implying that he was opposed to his job.

Oh yes, he wanted to keep people from coming after him, but there was more to it than that. He had a reputation to keep after all.

Nodachi didn't just kill you. He killed your family first.

It was highly clichéd, as the Ancient One had told him. Repeatedly. Nevertheless, it scared the shit out of people. Because whoever he was targeting, they died last. They had to attend the funerals of everyone they held dear. They had to watch as everyone around them fell. All the while aware that no one would want them committing suicide, so they would keep living.

He liked to keep a countdown going, with every member of the target's family he killed, he'd write a number on the wall with their tongue as his writing instrument, which he would later pin to the wall along with a finger or two. It had to have a ritualistic feel, because that was how he liked to work. Besides, ritualistic killings, oddly enough, made people think of religious tendencies, which in turn implied a zealot-like devotion. And that seemed to scare people more than most other things.

And scared people screamed more.

He knelt, feigning interest in the philosophy the traditionalist was spewing.

After a good few hours of the man's lecture, 'Dachi had gone from a somewhat painless death to vivisecting the man, starting with his eyes. Ten minutes later, he'd reconsidered and decided to go with removing the eyes last so he could see the fear as each tool was brought to bear.

When he finally escaped, half an hour later than he had intended to, he had decided that he would kill the man's wife first and take a bath in her blood before torturing the man to death. He was _that_ irritatingly self-righteous.

His feet lead him back toward his apartment.

--

Shuriken rhythmically tapped her pen against her desk, gazing idly at the paper. What was she supposed to be doing again? Something with the schematic PDA Nodachi had thrown at her, she thought. He'd marked some entrances, in violently red X's, and circled something that looked like a ventilation shaft on the roof of whatever the hell the thing was. Perhaps she was to design a way for him to reach the roof? She hadn't been bothering with wondering; mostly she'd been drawing random doodles on it.

She glanced at the clock, made a mental calculation that took several minutes, and stood. The PDA disappeared into her pocket, and she tossed the pen up. It hit the ceiling solidly, point first, and stuck. A rumbling purr rose from her throat, drawing several slightly more than awkward stares.

She giggled in response, tilting her head and widening her eyes. A smile of the sort that turns people into insulin dependants slipped onto her lips in a practiced fashion, before she tilted to spin away and wandered off; stumbling wildly as she did so, imitating a drunk she had once seen. She did, however, refrain from puking on someone. As amusing as it would have been, she didn't particularly feel like explaining that to someone at the moment.

She fingered the cuffs of her sleeves as she exited the cafe, making sure that the loops of her strangle-wire were still readily accessible, as they had a tendency to slip if they went unmaintained. They had, naturally, slipped. She would repair them later, perhaps install a ring on each, though that was an idea she had refrained from carrying out before, as the entire purpose of the wires were to remain undetected. They didn't show up on anything less than a totally intrusive investigation, Infra Red, X-Ray, hell, they wouldn't show up on a CAT scan.

Which was why she loved them. She could walk into an airport, get on a plane, and then kill both pilots and take over an airplane. Provided she wasn't shot down, she could then crash it into the center of a random city. A terrorist in training, she called herself.

Of course, she could do so without the wires, but that was irrelevant. It might even be more fun without them.

Idly she wondered when she would be able to retrieve the rest of her stuff, knowing that it would be her that would be forced to finish importing the rest of the pair's armories.

Not that Nodachi had an excuse. He was just a lazy asshole. There was a difference. Somewhere. She just wasn't entirely sure where. After all, she didn't want to be saddled with the gear-retrieval either.

But, damn she wanted her gearsuit back. She flexed her fingers in a controlled movement, perfected through extensive practice. Had she been in her 'suit, it would have triggered the extension of the artificial claws.

She'd never understood the reasoning behind that idea, she had her own damn claws, why the hell did she need fake ones? In his typical fashion, the Ancient One had merely given her a look that said both, "You don't need to understand," and, "You wouldn't understand even if I explained it, so why don't you just shut up and obey orders?"

She didn't pay attention to where she was going. Her feet knew the way back to the apartment, and they took her there.

--

Nodachi's right foot hit the first step of the stairs of his apartment at approximately the same time that the pale man folded himself into a sitting position on the chair and opened his case.

He was rounding the first landing as the professional in his apartment finished assembling the parts to the device on his lap. Approximately six stairs later, Shuriken entered the building, her loose pants dragging beneath her heels as she did so. Somewhere in the back of her head she noted that _He_ was going to berate her for not wearing a belt.

'Dachi was at the third floor as the bleached fingers stroked the smooth item lovingly, and reached back for the second ingredient. Shuri' was closing in on him, four steps closer than she had been when she had started ascending the stairs.

He was midway between the fourth and fifth floor when the dark-clothed man moved the item into position, aiming carefully. The girl absentmindedly twined her fingers into the loops of her wires as she continued closing on her 'brother'.

By the time the boy reached the door to the apartment, his 'sister' was next to him, and had they not been forced to stop by the door, she would have been ahead of him. Inside, the grey-haired man pointed the item at the door, holding it close to his ear.

He waited until the door had opened enough that he could see through it, and launched the glistening object.

The shining metal pierced Shinji's school uniform like it was tissue paper, ramming itself halfway through his left bicep, injecting a small portion of the contents before he ripped it out.

Nodachi stumbled backward, hitting the railing as he stared at the hypodermic syringe in his hand, just less than three quarters empty now, though it looked as though it had held something transparent, something that probably came from a purple bottle.

Shuriken stepped into the apartment, ignoring her 'brother', and walking toward the seated man, who was now in a position mimicking that of Buddha's famed lotus. He smiled almost benignly at her approach, extending a hand for her to take.

A hissed snarl from outside the door reminded everyone that 'Dachi was still alive and awake. And enraged. He knew exactly what had hit him, and he loathed it. He had been on it before, and it had been absolute _hell_ getting off it. The stinging in his back dimmed as the drug took effect, and his control slipped just a fraction more.

Above, the pale girl lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling with her hands folded across her chest, shivered as she felt the perverted AT-Field expand rampantly.

Shuriken gently placed her hand in the whitewashed hand of the red-eyed man. Her lips drew into an ice blue smile of contentment, and her hand tightened ever so slightly on the man's. He squeezed back carefully in response.

The fifteen year old darted forward, his shriek echoing in much the same way that echolocation does not. He was clearly not thinking lucidly, else he would never have attempted to assault the man on his bed. Even if he had been armed with firepower approximately equal to that of a full tank division.

And unarmed… Perhaps he knew, somewhere in the more survival-oriented part of his brain, that being armed and attacking would bring greater punishment. For, even though a number of them adorned his person, he drew not even a knife.

Of course, it was far more likely that his thought functions had gone far beyond considering the use of weapons.

The poorly-dressed man's second hand came up, pressed gently against the side of his errant pupil's head, and accepted the energy of the charge, before redirecting it.

Into the wall.

Nodachi's skull bored its way through the wall, through the stud behind the wall, and into the net of wiring beyond that. His flesh tore as one of the steel reinforcement bars scraped a jagged, broken edge down his face, beginning a scant half centimeter to the right of his eye, and continuing down to a centimeter above the line of his jaw in a crude mimicry of the line his tears had taken when he had been abandoned at the train station by his father.

He shoved himself away from the wall, the morphine dulling his senses so he felt nothing as the shattered bar dragged its path in reverse. Cautiously he poked at it, trying to identify the sensation of something _missing_ from himself. His hand came away bloody, and he flicked it to clear the highly viscous crimson liquid.

The small man seated on the bed tenderly pushed Shuriken away before standing, his contented smile half genuine, and half the result of twelve cc of morphium. Slowly he slid into a fighting stance he had learned long ago, designed for combat against an armed foe.

Shinji rushed him, landing a solid left palm heel to the man's chest as the first parry missed, coming out far too soon. His next strike, aiming upward to hit underneath the man's pectoral muscle on the same side of his body as his heart, missed as the man slid aside, catching the arm, as it stayed extended for a fraction of a second too long, around the wrist, placing his other hand on the boy's shoulder blade, and pulled in a deceptively short motion.

There was a squelching crack as 'Dachi's shoulder was torn from its socket.

The boy collapsed face first into the tile floor, and remained that way.

For good measure, the older man kicked the boy in the head to make sure he was unconscious. Only then did he sit down, placing his left foot on his right thigh, and his right foot on his left thigh.

Shuriken moved to attend, kneeling down in a more formal fashion, and waiting to offer what assistance she could.

And, with a calmness brought on by the large dose of morphium, the Ancient One began to tend his son's wounds. Later he would be absolutely enraged, more by the hole in the wall than the wounds, though he would be irritated by the bandage one of his prodigies would have to wear until the would closed. It wouldn't scar, he would make sure of that. But he would leave the wound to shame his student until it healed, as a reminder: _I am god, and you are merely my disciple. Remember your place._

But for now, he would care for the injuries of his pack. And that would make it all the more painful when his rage did come out.

And, across the smooth skin covering the taught muscle at the small of his back, the tattoo read: _POOR IMPULSE CONTROL._

Above, the red eyed girl let the unrealized tension flow out of her as the perverted AT-Field flickered and died. She would report this to the commander.

Though she didn't know why she would hide the circumstances from him. There was no logical reason for her to do so.

And other than that, the MAGI would have told him of another Absolute Terror Field. Therefore, there was no real need to tell him.

--

"Hallo Misato!"

Misato's cheerfulness could not be denied, but then it wasn't something she particularly wanted to deny. "Hello Asuka," she responded, being careful to pronounce the girl's name exactly right. She'd seen what happened to the poor man who was the last one to ever mispronounce it.

The girl bounced. This seemed to somehow have both a rejuvenating effect on the woman, and terrify her immensely. Asuka, being who she was, failed to notice this, and continued bouncing toward Misato.

Quickly, she multiplied into several hundred bouncing figures, moving in waves. Which, naturally slowly surrounded the Kat-lady.

The faces slowly melted away, the hair falling out to reveal a face that haunted her nightmares.

The woman collapsed inelegantly, curling up into a fetal position as she started to whimper. The no-longer bouncing Asuka Langley Sohryu blinked several times as the purple-haired woman collapsed into a sobbing mess in the parking lot.

Her foot rapped against the ground repeatedly as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. "Well, _Gott damn_… now where am I going to get a ride?"

**END CHAPTER**

And whatnot. This took a while. Whee…

Burn. Flame. Praise. Take out the F stamp and nail your monitor with it. I DARE YOU!


	14. Hell no! I am coming back!

RichardRahl—plain ol' red and arial will be fine. Morphium is morphine, the German spelling of it in theory. Not quite sure it's right. I'm confused about reviews vanishing too. OO

Jonathan Shim—Ah. Well then, please accept my apologies.

SOMEBODY—Not only do you suck at following directions, you're a moron. I said your screen. 'Tard.

A/N: hm. Dunno. School's out next week. Joy.

-----

Ocean Red

Chapter 14: Hell no! I _Am_ Coming Back!

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

-----

The first thing the boy noticed when he woke was that he was no longer on a tiled floor. The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't a bed either.

This seemed like a fairly ominous beginning to the day. Further confirmation of this could be drawn from the fact that when he moved his arm to push himself upright, he found that leaves crunched under his hand.

He ran his left hand through his hair, and then untied the bandanna blocking his vision.

"Awwww… _shit_."

He was, as he had nearly expected, not in the Survival Room. On the other hand, he had no idea where the hell he was, so he expected it balanced out. After all, you didn't need to be in a room to be forced to survive, did you?

He cranked his wrist, and then, for the first time he realized that he wasn't in his school uniform, nor his stalking suit. He was in his full gearsuit, as evidenced by the electricity pulsing through the enhancing equipment.

The realization brought him some measure of comfort, though he knew it also meant that apart from the integral weapons in the suit, he was unarmed. A state that was distinctly uncomfortable, perhaps even verging on irritating. He ran one hand over his shoulder, looking for the power switch, and failing to find it. Evidently, the suit was of a more advanced kind than he was used to.

That or his mentor had made some modifications to it. Either way the man was an asshole. If it was a modded version, being unable to shut the accelerators off would rapidly lead to him being burned to death as the generator produced more and more heat. If it was a new version, then it probably had all sorts of random-ass bugs in it that would prove irritating, if not fatal. That and a new one would have the absurdly insensitive factory defaults for how to activate the subsystems. And, of course, he'd have no idea how to actually use it.

Except, of course, for the most basic functions, like augmentation. That was something that was always active, so it really didn't need any commands. And, naturally, the thing was bulletproof. Or was supposed to be. He doubted it would stand up to the Eva's pallet rifle, after all. Then again, an Eva's pallet rifle would break most things anyway. Aside from, annoyingly enough, Angels. What good was a weapon that didn't do what it was designed to?

Unless, of course, NERV intended to initiate a war against humans.

A shiver that turned into a violent spasm as the accelerators in the suit automatically amplified the movement raced down his back. It wasn't fear; he knew that if a war like that actually did break out he might actually die. Though he found it unlikely, it was a possibility. It was more of anticipation.

For several minutes he sat still, wondering where on earth he was. That the sun was moving east to west was a good sign, unless he'd gotten his directions mixed up. In which case, for all he knew the sun could be going south to north. That did seem like something the Ancient One would do.

Of course, there was the question of how he'd do it, but Shinji didn't bother worrying about that. If the man wanted it done, _it got done_.

'Dachi reached behind himself more carefully than he might have done ordinarily, trying to find the power generator. It was always useful to know which of his organs would die first. Of course, it would only be a second or two before his heart exploded, but morbid fascination was a great motivator. The one thing he mourned was the fact that he would never get to recreate Kat-lady's face.

And that thought was enough that he shoved himself violently upward.

Forgetting, of course, about the accelerators, and therefore being flung upward a bit more than he intended, about four and a half feet higher than he intended, at a rough estimate.

He broke his fall with his face, standing on it for a moment, before floomphing down to lie on his stomach, his eyes shut tightly and his nose looking somewhat awkwardly squashed.

It took him several minutes to become accustomed to the accelerators, during which numerous failures (including Nodachi hitting himself hard enough to bruise his side and quite nearly break his knuckles) occurred, and left him more or less in no shape to travel anywhere. Any doctor would have immediately consigned him to rehab, had they seen him.

Of course, Shinji didn't give a damn and thusly started walking, though on occasion he underestimated the accelerators, and ended up doing a sort of spastic dance, unprepared for the suddenly far greater than anticipated motion, in a vaguely eastern direction. Or at least, what he assumed was east. On occasion, in the midst of one of his long, loping steps, he'd drive himself face-first into the dirt, skid for a bit, curse some, and then get up and continue.

All in all, he was probably walking north.

--

A yelp resounded through the apartment as Misato answered the phone. It managed to, impressively, mix terror, shock, abject utter despair, and at the same time implied suicidal tendencies. _The Miko_ fell tremulously from her hand, she had just reached her favorite part (page three hundred nine), though she wouldn't admit that to anyone. Well, anyone present, at least.

"No! I _can't_! I _won't_! You can't make me!" If it weren't for her choice of words, anyone present could have been forgiven for mistaking her for a three-year old, for the inflection and tone of her voice matched completely. The German peeking in from the kitchen decided that interrupting would have been a bad idea, and so ducked back out, trying to ignore the desperate denials and pleading that were rapidly approaching "noise pollution" level.

The hysterics that followed soon after were rather more difficult to ignore. She solved the problem by shoving a random CD into the unit and dialing the volume up to the point where it obscured all sound from the other room. Of course, when she realized that she had committed the sacrilege of sending the blues rampaging around at almost a full one hundred nineteen decibels, she immediately hit the eject button.

Whereupon she discovered that her 'guardian' had taken the sound level as a challenge and her wails had risen to compete, she shoved another random Compact Disc into the player, to discover that it was (somewhat mercifully) _Century Child_, and had somehow been set to _Beauty of the Beast_. Nevertheless this was far better than blasting the blues (not even her music! She'd **accidentally** packed it from her step-mother's stash. Honest!) at near-deafening levels.

Misato, on the other hand, was forced to wail louder, to get over the volume of the music, into the telephone. On the other side of the line, it was reasonable to assume that the sub-commander of NERV was going deafer than he had been.

He said something impossible to understand beneath the cacophony of noise, and the line went dead.

When the sirens arrived, investigating multiple reports of 'disturbance of the peace' (from as far as ten blocks away), they too were indecipherable.

When the police entered the apartment, they found the purple-haired Major still screaming into the phone, and the music still blasting from beyond the closed rice-paper door.

Oh, was the collective thought. Just some NERV morons. Move along then, nothing to see here.

And they really had to escape, to save their hearing. One particularly daring one attempted to try and draw his gun, to find himself accosted by Section Two agents, who promptly disarmed him, made citations, threw him out, and then set back to watch, safely protected by their layers of earplugs, earmuffs, fuzzy hats, and helmets. And it was still uncomfortably loud.

This continued for quite a long time. When it was over, brave people discovered a passed out Misato (how she had managed this, in view of the sensory overload was questionable), an entertainment system that had apparently overheated so badly that it had actually melted some of the circuits (it had been going for a long time), and Asuka, who looked as if she couldn't hear them (and somewhat as if there had been blood rolling down from her ears. But only a little. Her eardrums hadn't been completely busted).

--

Shinji sighed exasperatedly. He'd been walking (though perhaps 'fumbling' would have been a more accurate word) in, what he hoped, was the same direction for a long time. If it was, the Ancient One had certainly found a _damn empty place_ to drop him. Of course, he had fallen. Many times. That had slowed him down. Of course, the accelerators had sped him up when they weren't throwing him on his face. Altogether, he wasn't quite sure whether or not he'd moved faster than he would have with the suit off.

Damn the man! While the suit definitely had hellishly good heat sinks, and hadn't warmed up yet, that merely meant that when it did, it would be even hotter than the old version. And that was going to be… uncomfortable.

He tripped, and went skidding for a good four feet, ploughing the fertile dirt.

" 'S times like this," he pronounced as he carefully forced himself up, "that I wish I could just _stab him in the face_."

"Who would you like to stab in the face?"

The inquisitive voice was, fortunately, attached to an inquisitive face. 'Dachi would not have put it past the man to manage to conjure up with a voice that just traveled around the area, inserting peanut gallery comments.

So, instead of blasting into attack mode (or stab them in the face mode. There wasn't much of a difference), Nodachi yelped and jumped backward. Of course, this led to him flying a good ten feet before he slammed into the dirt, and scrambled backward into a rock, which he promptly spider-crawled up and over. A half instant later, he poked his head out over the rock, and tried to look inconspicuous.

He wasn't succeeding very well. The black gearsuit had a tendency to make him look quite out of place.

The man who had surprised him was not what he had expected. He was the perfect image-template of someone so utterly normal looking that the most descriptive thing Shinji could think of was that he was nondescript. Of course, this was Shinji, so his thoughts were probably more along the lines of "not-so-special-looking-but-still-damn-freaky."

Which, naturally, he wouldn't admit. _He_ was supposed to be the creepy one.

"The boss-man." He responded. "So, where am I?"

The nondescript man nodded. "Good thing I stopped you. You see that?"

Nodachi followed the man's hand. "Not so much."

The man smiled, slightly yellow white teeth filling the space between his lips. "Exactly. That's pretty much where the _real_ radiation from that thing going boom starts. Somewhere around there anyway. Never could tell."

Obviously, he had not been going east. South, perhaps. Maybe west.

"Ah. Where's Tee-Three?"

This drew a blink from the man. "Tokyo Three?"

Shinji rolled his eyes. "No, you think?"

The man, ever tolerant, nodded. "Is in that," he pointed vaguely off through what he had termed the irradiated area, "direction."

"Ah. Thank you." Whereupon Nodachi leapt forward, gripped the man's head between his hands, and twisted violently.

Then he left.

Several hours later, the body groaned loudly. It shoved itself upright, gripped its head, and forced it back to the normal position. "Why do they keep doing that? Every time I try to be helpful, they do that!"

--

It was almost two days later (school days, giving cause for the Class Representative's intense ire) when 'Dachi found himself back at his apartment.

He was busy praising god that he hadn't run into anything that required real exertion, and promising that he would kill the asshole who'd set him up like that. Not that said asshole was going to be around to do anything about fulfilling that promise. Or if he was, he'd probably laugh in the boy's face, then beat his head into the ground.

None of which stopped the boy from promising.

The door banged open, allowing the angered teenager entry. If it had been possessed of a modicum of intelligence, the door would have been open _before_ the boy was close enough to touch it. Of course, it was a door, and didn't have intelligence. So it was understandable that it was shut. Or at least, shut until he threw it open.

He was, at least, thankful that he wasn't addicted to morphine again. That would have been evil. Physically, at least. He still felt the burning desire to have more, but that was purely in his head.

The black-clad boy stalked in. Or rather, he tried to stalk in, because the gearsuit kept propelling him further than he had intended it to. It was rapidly becoming frustrating. And he still couldn't find the deactivation switch! He'd looked nearly everywhere on the suit, and it just didn't seem to exist!

It was, suffice to say, more than enough reason to kill his mentor.

In the meantime, however, he needed a shower. A long, hot shower. Preferably without the freakishly evil suit on. Blast it all!

--

The pale man remained seated as he listened to the woman lecture him. Not that he understood what she was saying. It was some foreign language he didn't speak. She looked vaguely Corsican, or maybe Italian. He wasn't very adept at guessing nationality. She was probably Russian.

"What's she speaking?" He asked the girl next to him.

The dreadlocked child shrugged. "American, I think."

"Oh." He waved a dismissing hand. "Stab her then."

Obediently, the girl drew one of her not-so-numerous blades, and stalked forward. "But there is no killing; we are not needing such barbaric tendencies."

A pout spread across the girl's lips, but she obediently stabbed the screaming woman in the thigh. It looked quite painful. Then again, having three inches of steel buried in your leg was bound to be uncomfortable. The blade exiting didn't exactly help the image.

"The femoral artery?"

"I missed. I think."

"Ah. Good then."

And the man stood, walking away. Someone would have to clean the blood off soon. It had been a while since the room had been cleaned, and it looked very dirty. It didn't smell very bad, but it looked terrible.

Yes, that was what he had forgotten. He should have checked to see if she was one of the cleaning people.

Ah, well. What is done is done. She'd been stabbed already.

And Wakizashi exited.

--

Gendo Ikari stood silently in his office, staring out the window at the darkened Geofront. He, being the energy conservative he was, had ordered that there be no lights on when there were less than four hundred people in the Pyramid. That this had happened only eight times pleased him greatly.

He shifted uncomfortably. It was always like this. Silent, and alone. It was a very nice way to be. As compared to surrounded by noisy, irritating delegates. Perhaps he should set his son on them some time? It would be amusing. And productive, unless they were very brave and stupid. It seemed to be almost instinctual to not piss of the man in control of the most destructive power in existence. And anyway, after the Antarctica Pact, no one had any nuclear weapons. In theory, anyway. It was far more likely that everyone had them.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose absently. He, of course, had contacts. But it was more that it was incredibly uncomfortable to not have his vision bordered by the thin, blurry black lines of glasses that kept him wearing the gear.

Besides, he'd always found it more intimidating to stare at someone who's eyes you couldn't see. And intimidation was everything.

Several hours had passed as he stood there, though not all of it was spent staring out the window. It would be hard to notice, but there was a shattered bottle in the trash can, where he had thrown it when he'd emptied it. If one looked really closely, they could see the remnants of a label on it, which he habitually tore off. No one would dare ask what it was, for that would be unkind. And besides that, everyone _knew_ he was an alcoholic.

Of course, it was a 'root beer' bottle, but all anyone ever saw was the 'beer' part of the label.

He shifted again, leaning backward to crack his back. It wasn't a quiet crack either, it sounded like a shotgun blast going off in his skull. Or rather, it sounded like that to him, but to anyone else, it sounded like a very quiet pop.

It wasn't for several hours before one of the janitors poked in. With brown eyes, dark skin, and close cropped hair, he looked the image of a poor beggar. Of course, it was just that he sat around on corners all day, he wasn't a beggar. He did it for fun. You did get paid a lot to clean up after the messes the Evas made.

"Sir?"

"…" The menacing silence held sway over the gloved man.

"Do you need any help?"

"…" It was almost as if there was a crack in his façade. But only almost.

"You stepped in gum? Again?"

"…" It was somehow as if his silence was blushing for him.

"I'll be back. What was it this time?"  
  
More silence.

"_Doublemint?_ I'm going to be needing help…"

**END CHAPTER**

****

Mostly pointless humor. Oh well.


	15. Game On

A/N: So, I was out of town without a computer I could freaking Word Process on. For a week. I nearly died.

Not so much, actually.

I did, however, get my Oceanborn and Century Child CD's at last. Joy.

No reviews? Sucked that much, eh?

KOH

LUSAKA (Reuters) - A 50-year-old Zambian man has hanged himself after his wife found him having sex with a hen, police said Friday.

The woman caught him in the act when she rushed into their house to investigate a noise.

"He attempted to kill her but she managed to escape," a police spokesman said.

The man from the town of Chongwe, about 50 km (30 miles) east of Lusaka, killed himself after being admonished by other villagers.

The hen was slaughtered after the incident.

Source: iWon news.

It turned out that the last wizard to have multiple animagus forms had been some unnamed sap from the far reaches of the Galapagos Islands, and was only known of because one of his forms had happened to be a small sperm whale. It had come as quite a shock to the man when he had abruptly become a watergoing mammal several hundred times his own size in the middle of his hut. Needless to say, rebuilding had been required.

--------

Ocean Red

Chapter 15: Game On

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

--------

Nodachi tilted his head. Ordinarily, this was not a special occurrence. And it still wasn't a special occurrence. The only special thing was what he was gazing through, the end of a scope one always wanted to be on. The unlucky object on the other end, the wrong end, exploded almost instantly after he caressed the trigger.

He forced himself to do a mental calculation that took at least four minutes to complete, and his finger drawing in the dirt he was lying on to keep some of the figures in his short term memory. Eventually he came up with an approximate speed of the bullet, and scowled darkly. There wasn't any particular reason for his scowl; he just felt that a scowl would be intimidating at the moment. And it was a magnificently intimidating scowl.

There just wasn't anyone there to see it.

He sighed with the wasted effort, and let his hands drop limply to his sides. A mumble of discontent rumbled through his chest, becoming a hiss as it whistled between his parted lips.

Then the gun fell on his foot, and he yelped before hopping around, gripping it tightly. That was a problem. The gun was darn heavy.

Shinji dropped to his ass, peeling off his boot and sock to investigate his foot. It was swelling nicely, and he could already tell that he was going to have problems getting his foot back in. He was grateful to note that, despite how it looked, no bones had broken. It was just going to annoy him for a few hours, then fade. Or rather, that was what past experience had taught him, and if he couldn't trust past experience, what could he trust?

He stuck his forefinger into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, and then prodding curiously at his foot. His skin had, fortunately, not broken, and he figured that it probably wouldn't even bruise. Just prevent his boot for a while.

Grumbles fled his lips as he stood, lifted the footwear not on his foot, and walked away, limp barely evident in his shuffling steps, neither foot quite leaving the ground as he moved. Maybe he could snitch some morphine for it…

Movement halted at the thought. Morphine? Where had that come from? Was he already sinking back into the addiction mentally?

It was a worrisome thought. Well, it would have been worrisome if he had known what the word meant. He described it as, _"A thought that makes me want to kill something,"_ or, _"Your doom."_

That was, of course, when he bothered to describe it at all. Which was an event about as rare as the apocalypse, but less doom-bringing. Strangely, such thoughts were often accompanied by flying pigs, which he hunted down ruthlessly for food. Hey, flying pork was still pork. It just had some extra bits. But that was easily fixed; all he had to do was pluck it. And it was better sport. Well, not all that much better, but then he couldn't exactly have flown well on wings that small either.

Well, he wouldn't fly on wings in the first place. He'd take plain steel-and-rubber any day.

--

Shuriken hopped off the bed, barely missing her brother's bag as she did so. He had, for reasons unknown to her, collected a great deal of small razors recently, most of which were residing within the bag. It was not something she wanted to land on.

She glanced at the clock before flopped down to lie on her back, eliciting a raised eyebrow from Wakizashi. "He's late, late, late, late, _LATE_!" She snapped, her voice rising on every repetition of the word 'late', though Nodachi had three minutes before the appointed time of arrival actually came. She was highly impatient to get to work, it had been weeks since she had been allowed to kill anything, and the boy had seen fit to include her in his mission from NERV. She got to kill the wife, as he had claimed the father for himself. It wasn't fair, he got to kill both the daughter and the father, but she only got the mother.

Her lips drew into a magnificent pout, impatient for the event to begin. The Ancient One was coming along, to supervise their work. Personally, Shuri' was glad he was going, just so Nodachi wouldn't get carried away and kill the targets before she'd had her fun. Couldn't have that.

At exactly thirteen seconds before the clock hit the appointed time, 'Dachi burst through the door, somehow managing to have stuffed his swollen foot, though by now it wasn't nearly as large as it had been, back into his boot. Promptly, without bothering to shut the door, he started stripping out of his school uniform, glaring feebly at the Ancient One, for he had been unable to remove the gearsuit.

Over the sleek black material, he tugged on a long sleeved shirt almost three shades darker than navy blue. He strapped only the NERV SIG-Sauer to on, in the shoulder holster. A pair of fairly nice, but well-worn jeans were pulled on, and to the inner thigh of his left leg he strapped a knife. He'd decided on carrying the majority of the tools he was going to use in the bag, simply because it would take less time to pack up afterward.

He reached for his jacket, merely a windbreaker, and tugged it on in an effort to make the gun less obvious. He had a concealed carry license, not a "carry in full view of the entire world" license.

And finally, he picked up his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he offered, "Ready, are you?"

Shuriken nodded rapidly, her own instruments concealed on her person in rows and rows of straps around her abdomen. Wakizashi languorously unfolded himself in a way that imply that he had far more joints than he actually did, and stood.

"Well. We have an appointment to attend, so let's go already."

He neglected to remember, of course, that it was his fault they were almost late.

--

The Section Two officers assigned to guard both the First and Third Children were more than slightly surprised when three people exited the apartment, which was supposed to be abandoned aside from the Children. Those assigned to the First were more surprised, as they had been the ones watching the apartment since forever, more or less. The First went in, and didn't come out unless it was for NERV or school.

The three people split, and after a hasty conference, which would later be looked upon as a terrible idea, the Third Children's guards split to follow each.

The girl walked into an alley. The agent followed her, and moments later she walked back out, her outfit exactly as it had been before she had entered. The agent did not, his outfit a completely different color.

The well dressed man entered another apartment complex, called an elevator, sent it up, and walked out the back. The agent followed the elevator, unaware that his target had not been in it until he had searched the entirety of the floor the quarry had sent it to. And by then, it was too late for him to follow.

The Third Child stepped into a subway station, and ducked into a bathroom as a train prepared to depart. He did not exit until he was absolutely certain the train was gone, and then he returned to the ticket machine at exactly nine past ten.

He purchased his ticket, boarded the necessary train, and seated himself. Precisely fifteen seconds after he had left the machine, the girl stepped up to another one, purchased an identical ticket, other than the serial number at the bottom, and boarded the train. The man took longer, a full seventeen seconds before he purchased his, and boarded the train, seating himself in the second compartment from the front.

Twenty-eight seconds later the train left the station. Ten minutes later a confused Section Two agent exited a train from the opposite direction, searching for his charge, who had apparently vanished from the face of the planet, for how much success he was having locating the Child. The commander was not going to be pleased.

Fifteen minutes later, the three exited the train, Nodachi arriving first at the top of the staircase, and moving to the side to lean against the wall of the outside. Wakizashi passed shortly thereafter, walked past his student without acknowledging him, and continued down to a pay phone where he stopped and picked the receiver up off of the base, pretending to put coins in, but actually palming one over and over again. It was almost a full five minutes later when Shuriken exited, whereupon 'Dachi pulled his Diskman out of his pocket, rapped the lid sharply several times, and cursed, as if it had run out of batteries. He fell into step mere feet behind his sister.

He passed 'Zashi, who slammed the receiver down in disgust, and followed his children. He took a right at the first corner, following his daughter as his son went straight. Shinji turned at the next street, meeting Shuri' at the next intersection, but ignoring her as he crossed. The Ancient One continued his path, turning left and crossing at the third intersection. Shuriken continued for another two before turning right, and continuing straight. The Child continued straight for two intersections, where he crossed, ignoring the order from the streetlight to stop, leaving his faux-father at the corner.

He was the first to arrive in front of the target's house, where he leaned against the wall and waited with hands thrust deep into his pockets. Shuriken crossed the street, throwing a fig in the general direction of a wolf whistle. She crossed her arms under her breasts, resting her weight on her left leg as she glared at her brother, who babbled randomly and incoherently until their father arrived, and broke them apart. He escorted the younger pair, who were still glaring at each other, around the side of the house and to the side gate. He slid a card through the reader, watched as the display went from red letters on a red-tinted screen to a mass of bright red, and then pushed the portal open. Nodachi and Shuriken followed him in.

Once within the wall, Shinji issued instructions to his sibling. "Right. The kid's out tonight, thank the random cosmic winds for western holidays, and won't be home for another three days. The woman should be either cooking or reading. Check the kitchen first, make your way to the inside of the front door, and it's the room at the end of the hall. If she's not there, she should be upstairs, in her office. Third door to the left from the stairs next to the kitchen." He stopped, unzipped his bag and fished inside it for a moment before producing a rag and a small bottle. "Here. Chloroform. I don't care if you use it to knock her out, or just gag her. Just don't do anything that might wake her husband."

He reached inside again, coming up with something not unlike a syringe, excepting the fact that there was no part for contents. Up to the side of the house he lead the Ancient One, inserted one end into the door's lock, and pressed the other. The lock snapped with a small bang, timed perfectly to coincide with the ringing of the front doorbell by his sister, who hastened to reach the corner of the house before the woman opened the door, where she halted and watched. Just to get a good look at her. Never knew which one might be the woman, these days.

'Dachi pushed the door open before slipping in at Shuriken's signal, a double-burst of static on the ear-jewel. His mentor followed, slipping into another room to investigate the quality of their décor. There might be something worth profiting off of in this venture after all. Shuriken followed, passing her brother as he waited for her to check the kitchen. It was her job to take the wife if she was there, and if not, she would have to go upstairs first.

Luck was with the killers, and the woman was seated at the table, a book propped open in front of her, sucking lazily at a cup of what was either vodka or water. Shuriken slipped up behind her, the child holding her breath, and in one swift movement wrapped her arm around the woman's throat immediately following an exhalation. Shuri' stuffed the rag into the woman's mouth, and rapped her sharply on the temple with just enough force to stun her while she pulled the prepared duct tape out and bound the woman to the chair, adding a bit more around her hands than strictly necessary, and wrapping it quickly around the woman's head, keeping her mouth shut and the rag inside.

She turned to see her brother at the door, nodded once, received a malicious grin in return, and turned back to her new toy. This would be… _fun_.

Nodachi slipped up the stairs, possibly less quiet than he should have, but then all the awake inhabitants (apart from his family) had been silenced already. He cracked open the door to the bedroom, made sure the man was asleep, and entered, wincing as the door squeaked. The man didn't stir. Shinji slid forward, pouring some of the contents of a second bottle of chloroform onto his own rag, and observing the odd sensation that came through the latex glove he wore. Perhaps it was being overly cautious, but…

He pressed the rag over the man's face for a count of ten, and then stuffed it into a plastic bag that went back into his duffle. Out came his own roll of duct tape and with it, he bound the man's arms to the corners of the bed. He used one hand to pull the sheets down, observing thankfully that the man slept naked. There would be no need to strip the man. He bound the man's ankles to the remaining corners, leaving him naked, uncovered, and spread-eagled.

'Dachi almost snapped his fingers. There was something he had forgotten, specifically his diving cap to prevent leaving stray hairs. He quickly rectified that problem, and exited the room, scanning as he went for anything.

He found Shuriken toying with a kunai above her helpless victim, who had been moved from the chair to the table, and spread eagled, much to the amusement of 'Zashi, in much the same way he had tied the husband. "So," he asked, "do tell why you aren't wearing gloves? The JSSDF has your fingerprints on file."

Shuri' snorted. "First off, that's stupidly high in classification. Almost as high as your psychiatric evaluation."

"Hey!" He objected, "Yours is just as high!"

"Yeah, whatever. Second, they're not civvies."

"What?"

The Ancient One broke in. "I found the most fascinating concealed cupboard in the living room. It was behind a picture, terrible defense, everyone knows about it, and contained what I wouldn't hesitate to call incriminating documents. The JSSDF will be most interested in this."

Nodachi raised a speculative eyebrow. "Who are you going to leak it through this time?"

The red eyed man considered. "I'm not sure yet. Maybe that one vying for a promotion in counter-espionage… indebt him."

Shuriken nodded. "Not a bad idea. He does have a daughter, right?"

"Yes." He replied after a moment's thought.

"Good." She announced.

"Right then. Let's get on with it. Are you staying to watch, or are you going to go?"

Wakizashi shook his head. "Staying. I want to see how you handle it. She," he gestured at Shuriken, "would make an excellent interrogator. I don't know about you yet."

The Child laughed along with his sister. "I know well enough for the both of us," he responded happily, "but feel free to observe and learn."

"Pliers?" Shuri' requested.

Shinji dug into his bag, and came out with a pair of needle nose pliers. He gave them to her silently, smiling cheerfully.

Shuriken took them with a nod of gratitude, and tapped them against the woman's flat abdomen, just above her navel, visible after the girl had cut the woman's shirt off, and following that her bra. Psychological torture, people felt far more vulnerable naked.

Realization dawned in the woman's eyes as the youngest present seized one finger and applied the pliers to her fingernail.

"This is going to hurt you a lot more than it's going to hurt me. Just be thankful you don't know anything worth knowing," she comforted. And then she ripped outward, tearing the nail free from the woman's hand.

--

Nodachi observed the corpse, which only moments ago had breathed its last. "Very nice work. One question though."

Shuriken wiped her hands on the rag she'd removed from the mouth. "Sure."

"How did you find out her maiden name?"

He was referring, of course, to the initials carved inside a heart on the woman's flesh, just above the left breast.

**END CHAPTER**

Secondary AN: I'd describe in more detail, but I expect that would get me banned. Not a very nice thing, suffice to say.

Review, flame, don't, go ahead.


	16. An Angel of Twins

RichardRahl—I'm on the verge of complaining to the FF.N staff about my non-existent reviews. -.-

Crrot—ah, yes. What joy, viral infections. They make me so… happy! These people are the family of Mayumi Tendo (the order was given back in chapter twelve). Pissed Gendo off, 'cos they were all anti-NERV. Gruesome Twosome… or Gruesome _Threesome_? Heh… Oh, noes! The perverted thoughts! The rampant run!

A/N: Right-o. I'm thinking this rating just went "R".

--------

Ocean Red

Chapter 16: An Angel of Twins

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

--------

"Why, hello there! Awake at last. Good thing too, we can't start the party without you."

The man mumbled something incoherent in response. 'Dachi sighed and gave him the double backhand. The man's state of awareness jumped from half-asleep to entirely-awake-ohmigod-what-just-happened-here!

"Well, now that I have your attention," he smiled, seating himself on the bed next to the naked man, "I would like to introduce you to _my_ family. That over there is Wakizashi, and I only called him pops once. He cut off a toe for it. That over there is Shuriken, goddess of knives, throwing implements, and other such unpleasant things. Don't mind the blood in her hair, it'll wash out."

The man tried to speak, and Nodachi flicked his fingers against the tip of the bound man's nose. "No. Not talky. Me not say you can."

He held out his hand, and Shuriken placed a blood-covered knife in it. He tapped the flat of the blade against the man's cheek, just below his eye. "You see this?" the Child wiggled it back and forth, "_This_ is the knife she used to kill your wife. See, NERV doesn't like you people annoying them. And I am ever so grateful that you were kind enough to send your daughter away."

"You're not going to kill her?"

'Dachi's fist connected with the man's gut, doubling him over as much as was possible while bound as he was. "No, no, no, no, no, Tendo. No talky. But I'll tell you anyway. See, this is a message of sorts. Your daughter is going to outlive the rest of your family, aren't you ever so proud? But anyway, back to the point. Remember this knife?" He gestured vaguely around with the blade, letting blood dribble onto his hand. He lapped it up, before grinning at the man. "Be happy, rejoice, this is not the blade I'm going to kill you with."

He threw it hard, and it stuck in the man's hand, pinning it to the headboard. The man screamed, and the child-weapon sighed. "Tape and rag!" he called.

Wakizashi handed him the rag that had, at one point, been in the woman's mouth. 'Dachi stuffed it into the man's mouth, before taping it shut. The man stopped screaming, retched at the taste of his wife's blood, and gurgled. "Oh, don't worry about vomiting and drowning in it. Your stomach has been pumped, there's nothing there to drown in." The boy smiled beatifically. "Now you get to play with us as long as we like. We're going to have lots of fun together, aren't we? Yes, we are."

He reached down into the bag, and from it came a rusty, cracked, chipped, serrated, and otherwise battered steak knife. "Now, see this?" He asked, waving it in front of the man's eyes. "_This_," he said, tapping it against the captive's nose, "is what _I_ am going to use to castrate you. Won't this be fun? I promise, this is going to be great!"

And then he pressed the knife against the man's groin, and with slow sawing motions, began to fulfill his promise.

--

"Alright then. Time for the next stage."

The man's head lolled on his neck, his eyes rolled up in their sockets. The Junior Sadist (number Two) had bandaged the man's groin, to keep him from bleeding to death as long as possible.

Nodachi dug into his bag once again, and drew forth something that looked almost like a scalpel. "Wake him up, would you?" He asked, running the blade down the sleeve of his shirt, watching as it split with an almost-hissing sound.

The Ancient One reached out, pressed his hand to the man's forehead, and he jerked against the bonds as his muscles contracted wildly.

"Thank you," the Child nodded, and turned back to his new toy. "You passed out three times last time. That wasn't very nice of you. We're going to have to work on that. Now, if you pass out, I'm going to cut deeper, okiies? Okiies."

He pressed the scalpel's tip against the bridge of the man's nose, punctured the skin, and began to pull downward, slicing the tender flesh open. The man's head jerked, ripping his nose up, lengthening the line of the incision before 'Dachi had intended, and a muffled scream echoed.

Nodachi pulled the scalpel back, and belted the man in the face with his free hand. "Bad boy," he scolded. "Naughty, naughty."

This time, taking a double-handful of the man's hair, he continued his incisions, outlining the man's eyes, lips (he had to take the tape off for this), the line of his jaw, just before his hairline, and generally making a large oval.

And then he ripped the man's face off.

--

The Child dropped the glass jam jar next to the bed. Within were numerous nails, many different sizes and shapes, some further in their decomposition than others. "See these, my good man?" he inquired joyously. "These are the biggest toenail on the right foot of everyone I've ever had time to extract them from. See that one?" he indicated one that looked not only very fresh, but resided on top of the rest. "That is your wife's. Be proud, you will get to add to my collection!"

And then he went to work with his pliers, systematically extracting the man's nails, ignoring the man's pathetic whimpering. He wasn't anywhere near done yet, and if the man died before he was, he would be upset. He had already been forced to prop the man's head up, to prevent blood draining into his nostrils, drowning him. That was more than he liked to do.

'Dachi dropped the appropriate nail into the jar, screwed the lid back on, and dumped the rest into the zip lock bag with the wife's. No need to leave unnecessary evidence lying around, after all. Bad enough Shuriken had left fingerprints all over. Of course, they were more or less smudged beyond recognition, but that was aside from the point. She was being _careless_.

"Now," he told the prone man, "at some point I'm going to be wanting at least one, if not all, of your teeth. Don't worry though, by that time you won't be able to scream," he comforted the faceless man.

"For the moment however, I'll settle for an ear." He slipped a razor under the man's ear, and cut it off with a savage jerking motion.

--

Nodachi drew off his latex gloves, depositing them into yet another zip lock bag. Second most useful things in the world, after the almighty _towel_.

"He lasted quite a while," the tenor of his mentor floated from behind. "Did you mean to do that, or was it accidental?"

The younger Weapon yawned. "Two days, accidental? Come now. Even if it were, I wouldn't tell you that. But no, it wasn't an accident. Anyway, its dark now, and we have to move the bodies."

"Where are you putting them?"

The Child smiled angelically. "I was thinking about crucifying them over the entrance to NERV. But then, I'm not sure they'd stay up long enough."

"So…"

"So I'm going to crucify them over the entrance to the Geofront. Much more public, and more people will see before they get covered or pulled down." He paused a moment. "Ah, nearly forgot. I'm going to be needing an eye."

--

Gendo Ikari was frustrated. It wasn't that there were corpses hanging over the entrance to his establishment, no. It wasn't how the corpses were mutilated, almost beyond being recognizable, no. It wasn't that he hadn't seen the Third Children in three days, no. It was that the boy hadn't bothered informing him of what he was going to do! Admittedly, he hadn't given orders to do so, but then it was ingrained in the _rest_ of the NERV personnel that they should always ask first.

Though the boy had been far more of a success than he had hoped. The sheer creativity, tying the bodies up with their own intestines, alone was worthy of note. That he hadn't been caught doing it, and furthermore had eluded Section Two, who had been ordered not to interfere anyway, _and _killed one of them, was simply astonishing. Even if Section Two _was_ full of incompetents, it was an impressive feat. And furthermore, he had left absolutely no evidence of who had done it. The mother's blood had coated the kitchen (along with scattered bits of anatomy), the father's the bedroom. But his son had left no fingerprints, no hairs, no DNA that could be detected immediately, no blood of his own, no witnesses (though he probably would have killed them too), nothing at all. Wild rumors were spreading already, that it had been the work of a ghoul, a flesh-eater that Satan himself had sent as a warning to those who opposed NERV. That another Angel was stalking the city.

His son was, if nothing else, admirable. The child just had to learn who was in charge.

Of course, Nodachi already knew that.

--

Shinji was brought out of his silent slumber by the Angel siren. He took a moment to recognize it, then mumbled something about, "letting the German slut handle it," and pulled the pillow over his head. Shuriken was, fortunately for her, elsewhere. Or when the Section Two agents stormed in, snatched the Third Children, and dragged him out (after being forced to detach him from the bed, which alone took as much time as the journey to NERV), and stormed out again, she might have been in trouble. Of course, the Ancient One would have just killed them if they had tried doing anything to him.

He still wasn't awake as they stuffed him into a plugsuit (badly, that wasn't their job anyway. They did, however, puzzle over the strange black bodysuit beneath, but were unable to remove it, so it was left on him), and then into the plug of the purple Eva. In fact, he actually didn't wake up until he'd been dropped onto the Ki'i peninsula. Just in time to hear Asuka:

"Two against one is not what I call a fair fight. It's not fair."

Irritated at being dragged out of bed on an hour and a half of sleep, already disliking the German, and sheer bloodlust combined explosively. "Look you stupid whore! If everyone fought fair, the Romans would still be ruling the fucking planet, or the Americans would be British, or the French would be British! Just because you have a misplaced sense of honor doesn't mean the rest of us have to pay for your _godforsaken stupidity!_ You're a soldier now, _soldiers do not fight fair!_ Get over it already!"

"Oh yeah!" she bellowed back as she turned and raised her lance, "What would you know about war?"

To find that she was on the wrong end of a pallet rifle. "I know how to win. Which is apparently more than you!"

Misato cringed before the Third's outburst.

"Oh yeah? Just watch!" The Second cried as her Eva charged.

She leapt, landing on a building that, until her arrival, had borne a sign with the word, "Fantasia," in all capitals, nearly crushing it as she leapt again. A third leap, and her lance split the Angel in two halves.

"Well, what did you think of that? A fight should be clean and elegant, without waste." She proclaimed.

Shinji snorted. "Fights should be short and brutal. Fighting is not to make fighting look pretty. Fighting is to kill, and for _no other reason._"

"Oh yeah?" the girl challenged, not noticing as the Angel's center yin-yang (though the colors were not traditional, red and blue) crest split.

The Weapon noticed, had in fact noticed that the insanity of the Angel's Power had not actually ever died, but didn't bother informing her. "Yes! Do you want to fight over it?"

"Yes!" she shouted back, not realizing that the two halves had formed into two, smaller replicas of the original. The Angel had not looked unlike Sachiel, though it had no bone-armor, and instead of a beak-face had originally an entirely grey version of the yin-yang. Additionally, across the top and down the arms, the Angel was a dull grey, and seemed to be set farther away from the rest of the body, which was a sea-green like color. This color change was replicated down the outside of each leg. The new Angels, however, had differing coloration. One had orange set-away, the other a shinier steel-grey, or the green color of the skin of a sick person. It was hard to tell, it seemed to switch. The other color had darkened as well, somewhere between black and dark, dark green. The yin-yang as well was different on each; they each had what looked like a grey bowling-ball face instead, with one hole at the top, and the other two nearer the bottom, separating the sides into perfect one hundred twenty degree angles.

Misato spazed. "What the hell is this crap?"

Shinji snarled, and then at the red head spat, "Are you happy now? Its two-on-fucking-two!"

--

"Today at ten, fifty-eight, fifteen seconds AM, Unit Two was attacked by one of the targets, Beta." The corresponding image of Unit Two, looking like some sort of massive groundhog facedown in a hole of its own making, was splayed across the wall by the projector. "Then both Alpha and Beta turned on Unit One, managing to sever its power cable. With a reduced charge, the cause of which is still being determined, Unit One lasted against both for one minute, thirty eight seconds before running out of power." An image of the purple Unit, lying on its back against a mountain, looking like its armor was going to need massive replacing, was displayed. "We have a comment from the Project Chairperson, 'This is _pathetic!_'"

"This is all your fault!" Asuka screeched, standing up in front of the image, casting a shadow over the groundhog-Unit. "You totally screwed up my debut battle on Japanese soil!"

"My fault?" Shinji's hiss managed to roar somehow, and made one Ryouji Kaji fear for his eardrums, "You're the one who stood around bragging when you should have been making sure the Angel was dead!"

"You're one to talk, mister fifty-percent synch ratio!"

"Oh yeah, miss groundhog?"

"At eleven oh three AM," Maya overrode both pilots, impressive in Shinji's case, "NERV abandoned the operation and transferred control to the UN Secondary Force." An image of what were undoubtedly the contrails of stealth bombers appeared.

"We've been humiliated." Fuyutsuki snapped.

The Weapon spat. "Speak for yourself. I would have won, if it wasn't for that godforsaken internal battery!"

"At eleven oh five AM, the UN forces made an attack with a non-nuclear mine." Images of the various stages of the blast flashed by.

"We'll have to re-draw the map again," the sub-commander complained.

"They succeeded in burning off twenty-eight percent of the target's structural substance." Maya continued.

"So why don't they just drop three more?" Shinji demanded.

There was a long, potent pause.

"Why _don't_ they just drop three more?" Misato asked.

"They probably don't have clearance to use three more." Maya guessed.

"Well then, why don't they _get _the goddamned clearance?" Misato said.

"You two!" The sub-commander snarled. "Just what do you think your job is?"

"Piloting Eva?" Asuka guessed; a somewhat meek expression on her face.

"Winning this fucking war!" Shinji replied, his face a mask of rage. "Like any _good_ soldier's!" Misato cringed.

"Are you calling me bad!?" Asuka demanded.

"I'm calling you _useless! _**Worse** than useless!"

Asuka fell silent before the sub-commander's voice. "Pilot Ikari is correct. NERV does not exist to have you make fools of us!" An image of Unit-Two being dug out was followed by an image of the Test type being dragged to shore by several tugboats, from where it had been flung by the Non-Nuclear mine.

"Oh, right." Shinji hissed, his features almost elongating, his control over the Power slipping badly, "Because it's so my fault that I was flung into the water by the N-Two mine the UN dropped on my ass! Maybe if I had a half-decent power source, this wouldn't be a problem!"

"So!" The sub-commander broke in, "The two of you are going to learn to work together!"

"I could never work with this beast!" Asuka snapped.

Shinji stopped breathing for a moment, fighting for control over his anger. And then, his hatred showing in his perfect control of his movements, he stalked forward, his eyes narrowed as his pupils fought and fluctuated between vertical slits and the more human dots. His hand wrapped around her throat, and without even activating the gearsuit, he lifted the girl with one hand wrapped around her neck, pressing up against her jaw.

"Damn right I'm an animal…" He hissed into her ear, his tongue darting out to lap at the lobe once. "And I preferrr my bassser instinctsss. Ssso don't ever try and threaten me. I have no problemsss with killing you."

The Weapon threw the girl back into her seat, where her hands massaged her throat as she coughed. "I refuse to work with this inbred piece of filth," he said, his voice perfectly calm, his fists clenched, parroting one of the Ancient One's insults. "Get Ayanami to do it. Now, if you need me, I'm going to be beating the shit out of every Section Two agent I find on my way to the gun course, where I will be running the Urban course at full-lethal with one magazine."

He stormed over to the door, though his footsteps were silent, another measure of how royally pissed off he was, and knocked it off its slide-tracks and across the hall with one blow.

**END CHAPTER**

Whoo. Done. Rating is now R, for graphic violence.


	17. The Hope Train Thingy

Spiritblade—Refreshingly, you say? I was hoping for kinkily, but I guess I missed… And I don't like the word evil. Never again mention it in my presence. Grr.

RichardRahl—Well… Okay. Someone's getting shaved. Oi! Asuka! Over here! NERV will meet his family… eventually

legacyZero—Bah. Stupid ISP's. Queasy? Oh, maybe just a little… . I hope this chapter was worse though. The "feeling" you say… cool. More violent as in more violence or even sicker/more graphic/more disgusting violence? Yes, to both.

D14852001—"slip" at her? You mean go psycho on her. Not so much, really. She's about as close to a Weapon as one can get in Eva without actually being one.

Karibanu—not really a bad day, just a late night. Brutal, eh?

Crrot—I've always liked torture. 'Dachi's quirky, not obsessed with jewelry. And that would be too obvious. Give him away and whatnot. You're reading SN? And not reviewing? Interesting. . If you want to see what someone's face looks like without skin, go watch Once Upon a Time in Mexico.

Angel of Twins—Yes. That was a good movie. And yes, I've seen your stuff, not totally coincidental. I think your profile lists another identity as "Two Minds", which would mean you reviewed SN. "Special", eh? Continuing.

Tatsu—Right-o. Nothing to do with Akane. It may have come from Battle Royale, but I'm not sure. If so, she was this deluded freak who thought she was some sort of "space warrior" who was going to kill the "demon" that had been killing her classmates. Said "demon" shot her without looking at her. Unless I'm thinking of the wrong character.

A/N: How odd. I make torture, I get more reviews. Oo I'm not understanding why in the name of whatever the Eleventh was trying to destroy the Geofront. That would have blown the shit out of Adam. And that would be directly _against_ what the Angels wanted. The hell?

I have words of knowledge for you: "Be as water, spineless and running." And more: "Be as water, full of deer piss."

"So, you're in the army. What do you do?"   
"I go to foreign countries and kill people."

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Ocean Red

Chapter Seventeen: The Hope Train. Thingy.

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

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"Stab," the boy mumbled irritably as he sank to the floor. The now empty magazine of his SIG clattered to the tile. Automatically he felt for another, before remembering that he hadn't brought one. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ German!"

His hand found the clip, gripping it tightly as he prepared to enter the hall. The child was not at all discouraged by the lack of ammunition, though he did shove the weapon back into his belt, and drew a knife, nor was he discouraged by the motion sensitive automated turret at the far end of the hall. His lack of a plan depressed him not at all, and his chances of success only managed to excite him.

Shinji's tongue flickered out, wetting his chapping lips. This would be so _easy_ if he blew the thing apart with the Power…

But that wasn't why he was doing this. He was doing it to try and prevent himself from killing what's-her-name. Not that he didn't want to kill her. No, he just thought he might not be able to finish the elimination of the Tendos. And that would have upset him. He _never_ failed.

He lunged, watching as the barrels began to spin faster, and then a dragon-tongue of flame leapt from them, tracing incredibly slowly across the hall toward a running Nodachi.

He threw the empty clip; the machine deliberated for a moment, and then decided to follow it. He took advantage of the extra time, and managed to get most of the way to the machine before it caught up with him.

The first three shots slammed into his shoulder. The only thing that saved it from complete and utter destruction was the gearsuit, the myomers of which tensed, going from a soft, almost liquid consistency, to comparable to diamonds in an instant as he flexed.

Nevertheless, he was sent spinning to the floor, almost underneath the machine itself. "Miasma-forsaken piece of crap!" He shouted at it, watching as it continued firing uselessly down the corridor, thankful that it did not depress, and wondering why in the name of Satan's _Unholy Legions _he hadn't crawled at it. His knife leapt, and severed the belt, strangling the feed-mechanism and it ran dry. Still the barrels spun madly as it attempted to pursue its function.

Shinji gripped one of the legs as he stood, flipping it onto the side. "There we go. All better now."

Down the hall he went, to find that around the next corner there was nothing. Perfectly clear. He stopped, and his eyes commenced an intense scrutiny of the corridor, fully expecting some sort of pop-out turret, or blocks of explosives. Of course, he knew, if there were explosives, they would not be visible. Then again, he also knew that it would probably not be a good idea to destroy a great part of their own building, even if it was specifically for training, so explosives were unlikely.

He commenced marching down the hall without actually satisfying his sense of caution. If he died, it was his own damn fault.

And, then again, killing their own personnel was probably not a very good business decision. One did not get far murdering their employees. Unless, of course, that was the entire point. In which case, one could get damn far murdering one's own employees.

None of which actually ran through his mind. His concerns were more immediate, like what lay around the next corner, between him and the way out. And besides that, he didn't care all that much being a business.

He rounded the corner, backpedaled immediately with a small, "Oh," of discovery, and went to one knee. He peeked around again, just to make entirely sure, and nearly had his head taken off by the massive slug fired from the thing down the hall. It was nearly _artillery_, that. He looked a third time, though now it was to ascertain the position. The gaping hole in the wall bore testament to the size of the rounds the machine fired. Nope, no need to make sure _that_ was accurate.

No need to test the accuracy of the _artillery_ either. Nope, none at all. No need to find out if it was loaded with explosive rounds either. Nope, none at all.

Sure, his suit might protect him from the impact… somewhat, but it wouldn't do much against an explosion. Not that it had ever actually been tested… Insane Nodachi may have been. Stupid, quite possibly. An idiot, probably. Carelessly suicidal, most definitely not.

He swung around the corner, and fired the last slug at the machine. Still it put a sizeable chunk of metal through the wall next to him, before the bullet impacted the target zone and it went dead.

Nodachi hissed angrily from where he lay, grabbing weakly at the piece--"slab," he muttered darkly--of wood that had thrown him. He had not been prepared for it, and he knew that there would be a large bruise there later.

He shoved himself to his feet, marched carefully over to the machine, glared at it for a while, and then gripped the barrel of the weapon and twisted. When it had been deformed into something that looked almost, but not quite, like a poorly-made pretzel, he stopped and stormed carefully past it.

--

"No."

Purplie groaned. She really had to get the two to work together, unless she really wanted the Sub-Commander to kill her. That might have been a mercy, as she was being forced to house the two as they were learning to work together. Or would be forced to, if she ever got the boy to do it. He was acting like a spoiled, stubborn three-year old at the moment.

"You have to," she snapped, and then recoiled as if struck, expecting him to turn and kill her, or some such. What happened was far, far worse.

He turned, and grinned widely at her, showing a lot of teeth. His hands clapped against his cheeks in a motion she had never though she'd see outside of a movie, and he giggled. This wasn't a menacing giggle, but that only made it worse somehow. It sounded like he was delighted.

Only knowledge of certain death kept her from fleeing. It could have been worse, she tried to comfort herself, it could be worse. She could wake up to find the boy staring at her, various torture implements (she wasn't quite clear on what these were) at the ready. That this was not entirely an unlikely outcome with him living inside her house, she deliberately ignored.

"No," he squeaked in a voice that somehow brought to mind a toddler. Admittedly, a toddler that had gone through Weapons One-oh-one, Killing Two-oh-two, and Being a Sadistic Ass Three-oh-three.

She wanted to shoot him and get it all over with. Only the thought of what would happen if she didn't kill him on the first shot stayed her hand. She was absolutely certain she would not get a second try. She was right, though perhaps not quite in the way she thought.

"You are going to come with me!" Almost instantly Katsuragi regretted her outburst. She winced, retreating as far as she could without going through the wall she had inadvertently allowed herself to be backed against.

The white sleeve of Shinji's school shirt slipped down as he patted Kat-lady's shoulder with perhaps excessive force. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the matte black of the gearsuit reaching up his arm, and for the first time wondered why the boy was wearing gloves.

"Silly, silly, silly!" He repeated through his laughter. "You're not the boss of me!"

Misato thought about that for a minute. "Yes," she protested, "I am!"

"Oh. Oh well. Too bad." His fingers twisted into her jacket, gripping the material tightly as he prepared to fling her in the general direction of the door.

"Nodachi…"

It was, Misato decided, the sing-song quality of the voice that disturbed her most. She had to tilt her head to see around Ikari's, to be confronted by the grinning visage of Shuriken. It looked, she thought, distinctly like the girl filed her teeth into points. As a result, her mouth was full of things that appeared to be, but couldn't possibly be, the teeth of a large cat.

"Ooooh! Looky! We're entertaining a guest! What joy!"

Misato's hopes of rescue abruptly found that the oasis they had been playing in was actually a mirage, and realized that they had been drinking sand. The screams of their surprise rang throughout her skull strangely, and she missed whatever the pilot had responded with.

The toilet flushed, and she had to wonder who these people were, inhabiting the home of one of the most valuable people in the country. And why the _hell_ Section Two hadn't mentioned them, or indeed thrown them out. The sound of the tap running drew the attention of everyone, and Misato felt like demanding why there was a sink to wash hands, when they could easily be cleaned with other methods. She refrained, more curious as to the identity of the occupant.

"Who is that?" she asked hesitantly.

Shinji laughed somewhere in his throat. "That is… a secret!"

Misato attempted to slide down the wall, and was foiled by Shinji's grip on her jacket. "Off…" she protested feebly, prying weakly at his fingers. He slapped her for the effort, and otherwise continued ignoring her.

Her hopes found themselves on a cruise liner, sailing off the coast of some island or other as she caught sight of the man exiting the bathroom. He was short, sure, but she could see the girl practically kneeling before him, and feel the weight of the boy as he leaned against the wall, or rather, against her, and through her the wall.

"What are you doing?"

" 'Dachi's got a new toy!" the girl squealed. It put Misato in mind of the sound of gears turning, dragging the hanging corpse of a cow, which strangely had rather purple hair, to the butcher, not unlike an assembly line.

"Ah. Carry on then, but keep it down. There's that girl upstairs."

Rei? Misato wondered. He knows about Rei? Fucking Section Two incompetents. Her hopes found that the cruise liner had a rather serious malfunction with the rudder control, and were driven into the cliffs. The engine also evidently had problems, as it exploded shortly thereafter.

And then she was faced with two grins. "Urk!" She whimpered eloquently.

--

When Section Two finally answered Misato's screams for help, they found her tied to the ceiling of the apartment, her hair dangling mere centimeters from the floor. She was gibbering madly, drool splattering intermittently on the wood -- or tile, it was hard to tell -- floor. Shuriken and the Ancient One had vanished, most likely out the hole in the wall. Shinji was rocking back and forth, precariously perched on the bed, giggling and letting out mad shrieks of laughter whenever Misato twitched or screamed particularly loudly. Or perhaps she twitched and screamed when he shrieked; it seemed to happen nearly at the same time.

When they tried to remove the strung up Captain, one of them was met by a dart-shuriken to the groin. His eyes crossed, his hands moved to his crotch, and he toppled, face first into the puddle of saliva beneath the purple haired woman. Wisely the remaining Section Two Agents decided to cease and desist and, more importantly, call for backup. Equally wisely, the backup never arrived.

It wasn't until Ryouji Kaji made an appearance that the vastly amused Living Weapon allowed his play toy to be taken down. And then only because the man was waving a shotgun around like it was a twirling baton. If nothing else, Shinji Ikari had great respect for shotguns. His leg still itched whenever he saw a Remington M31. It had been what, five years now? Shinji thought.

He was then dragged out of the room by the dismayed Section Two Agents. However, once he exited the apartment, having been sort of bodily flung out, he catapulted himself into one of them, sending him into, and then over, the railing. He watched curiously as the man fell, leaning dangerously far over the edge, and laughed as the Agent slammed into the roof of a passing convertible, collapsing it, killing the driver, and sending the car careening into the apartment, where the impact sent sparks up, before it burst into flame.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty!" Shinji giggled. The next agent, who tried to grab the boy by the back of his shirt, found himself in a similar predicament, only he was falling into the already burning pyre. He didn't bother screaming, settling for one last sigh of resignation. This sort of thing did seem to be his lot in life.

--

"Whoa…"

Shinji whistled appreciatively as he flicked through the dossier on Mayumi Tendo. He was impressed; it wasn't everyone that thought to make the entire thing mostly out of pictures. She didn't have that much family, an older sister, who was most unfortunately married, that would cause problems later, and an aunt by marriage. It didn't show anything about the uncle that probably existed somewhere, something he frowned at.

Interestingly, it listed the family of the sister's husband as well. That was, in fact, what most of the folder consisted of. It seemed as though, through marriage, she was related to everyone in the damn country. Oddly enough, he saw his own picture in there, something about his mother being a third cousin, twice removed, or someshit. What the hell did that mean?

"So, why am I here again?"

Misato peeked up at him from her position in the corner.

"So you can work with me, idiot!"

Shinji turned his wide grin toward the interrupting girl. He stretched, whipchord muscles standing out beneath his skin. "Shut up," he said casually, "unless you want to never speak again. Please?"

She opened her mouth.

He stood, and leaned forward, shoving his face into hers. "See this?" He demanded, or perhaps ordered, as he shoved her attention toward the scar under his eye. "Chemical burn scar. Potassium Hydroxide. Now, unless you want me pouring it down your _goddamn throat_, I suggest you shut the hell up and butt out, okiies?" He nodded, smiling, and patted her head like he would a dog. Which was assuming, of course, that he didn't kill the dog outright.

She shut her mouth, probably more surprised by the pat than intimidated by his threats. But that was okay, she wasn't talking.

"Good girl," he crooned, before turning back to Misato, ignoring Asuka's indignant spluttering. "Ah," he said, affecting a ridiculous accent, "do declahre." _I do declare_. "Ah deeemaynd ter knoaw why Ah aym here." _I demand to know why I am here…_

There was a long pause.

"What?"

Shinji glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I told you to shut up, you stupid girl."

Misato cringed and Asuka flustered. "I've graduated from college!"

"And yet," Shinji drawled, "you seem intent on pissing me off. I would call this stupidity."

Misato took time to pray, ignoring the burning hulk of a cruise liner in her skull. _Please God,_ she started, _don't let him kill me. Take Asuka instead! Please! I'm too pretty to die!_

Shinji paused, tilting his head as if listening to something. "Now why," he wondered aloud, "would I do that?"

**End Chapter**

Late. Late-late. Yaaaaay.


	18. Makoto? Shigeru? Sam? Peter Who are you?

Crrot—Hah! Ye scum! Thae ye shoul nae review an yea read, thae is a cruel t'ing indeed. Bald? No. Hair? Maybe. I'll take it into consideration. But first, there is this!

Gopu—Many thanks.

A Reviewer—There is also something elusive we like to call 'plot'. It may be here, it may not.

Angel of Twins—but then they would like, be not-torturable! Nope, no cellular phones. Just jewels in the ears to contact each other.

RichardRahl—I think it's the stereotypical 'southern belle' accent. Damned if I know what it actually is though. And yes, I do think it is the same one as the Rooster. If you're talking Loony Toons, of course.

yeth—of course. We all make mistakes some times. And my thanks for the praise. Fast? That's dependant on how you view 'fast'. If I were a planet, fast would be eons longer than for a mayfly. That was strangely deep, and I didn't intend it to be.

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Ocean Red

Chapter Eighteen: Lunatics! All of you!

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

There was a slow shadow creeping across the floor. It looked rather like an overturned laundry basket on legs. This was quite possibly because it was, in fact, an upside down laundry basket with someone inside it.

Badly stifled snickering squeezed out from the weave of the basket as it approached. Squeaking followed as it reached its destination, and then a hiss. It wasn't just one hiss; the sound was repeated many times.

The basket slid over to the bed, where the purple-haired woman resided. It giggled, and then there was a snip, followed by a long ripping sound. The basket giggled some more, and the hand that held the metal implement retracted, and it snuck away to finish the job. It hit the rice-paper wall near the door several times before sliding through. There was but one thing left to do now…

The arm pushed open the door to the water closet, and the basket entered. More snips followed, and then it squirmed out again quite a bit later.

Several times it hit the wall before making its way into the room Shinji Ikari had appropriated. It vanished into the darkness within the doorway.

Then there was a loud, furious screech as the occupant of the basket ran into something hard and sharp.

Madness surrounded Kashi as he exited the car. Reporters, though only a small part of the crowd, somehow made up most of the clamor. In accordance with his Standard Operating Procedure, he ignored them as best he was able. It was not a hard thing to do; he was far more interested in what was inside the house.

He waited as the other man exited the vehicle. In contrast to Kashi's matte black suit, the escort was garbed in white and khaki, shirt and trousers respectively. The escort's job was not actually to guide Kashi, nor to protect him. That would void the purpose of Kashi's presence.

Obediently, Kashi extended his wrists, holding them close together. The officer cuffed him carefully, doing his best to avoid offending his charge. This was an easy job, and not one he wanted to lose. Three pairs of manacles went on, all of them fairly loose. Strictly speaking, they were supposed to be tighter. It was the dangerously impatient look Kashi directed at the escort.

Even after Kashi was fully bound, he remained motionless, closing his eyes to center himself. He remained still for long minutes, impressively imitating a corpse. In short order, he could no longer hear the reporter's thunderous din.

In the long, indeterminable hours when he was not working, he had wondered, even marveled at the nigh-prescient ability of the press to be ready at a crime scene before the police arrived. He had gone so far as to wonder if they _caused_ the crimes. But then, they had done so at the twenty-thirteen to twenty-fourteen spree, and he knew like no one else that those crimes were uninfluenced.

His eyes peeled open, and he slowly began to move. Haltingly at first, retracing his steps several times. As always, he perfectly retraced the movements of the death that had visited. The side of the house, to the door. Something had been done to the lock—he didn't quite know what. The door opened for him, and he frowned. There was something he couldn't quite grasp; the intent was usually immediately obvious. Here…

Here it escaped him. It was not a mere contract, though it was certainly that too.

The confusion passed out of his mind as he peered into the kitchen, and saw the pure, undisturbed result of the deaths.

He broke from the path, falling to his knees before the door, breath stuck in his throat. Blood soaked the room: arcing over the walls, dried stains on the floor.

"God," he whispered. His eyes were wide as he slowly bent forward, pressing his forehead to the tile reverentially.

That was how, when his escort eventually entered to look for him, he was found.

"Can you not _see_ it?" Kashi demanded harshly. "How can you not see this? How can you not wonder at this? How can you deny the _beauty_?"

Martin Kimmon—absurdly a Japanese-Irish American, transferred to the military police of the Japanese Strategic Self Defense Force in twenty-fourteen for undisclosed reasons—merely lifted an eyebrow. "Right Kashi, just tell me what happened here."

Kashi turned a look of zealot rage upon him. "How can you not _see_ it?"

Kimmon started to lean against the wall, to find Kashi's hands wrapped around his hand, tugging sharply. "Don't do that!" The enraptured man snarled.

Kimmon stumbled, unprepared for the inappropriate action, crashing into Kashi's chest. The smaller man almost collided with the table, before regaining his balance, the other's hands gripping his biceps with bruising force.

A moment later, Kimmon was upright without aid, though still gripping the smaller man's arms. "Don't ever do that," he said.

Kashi nodded obediently, though the zealotry still existed in his actions.

"What happened here?"

"The woman was reading in the chair. She was subdued quickly—rag to the mouth, I think. Then she was taped to the chair. You can feel the adhesive. Knocked around a bit, not enough to cause physical damage. A few slaps here and there.

"Someone left the room. The woman soiled herself when he came back, and she was bound to the table. More tape. Her fingernails were torn off; you can see the smaller pools around the table legs. Her clothes were cut off. Her fingers were broken, bone by bone. Then her hands. The skin didn't break, until the master cut her hands open. Scalpel. The bones were removed, and then her hands had the blood cut off somehow so she didn't bleed to death.

"The master started carving things into her skin, starting above the eyebrows, finishing at the feet. There was something on the blade, probably a weak acid so it hurt more. Needles were used to make patterns in her skin. They had ink on them. Mostly in her head. Her chest and abdomen were cut open, very carefully. Just enough to reveal the muscle—the tissue wasn't damaged. Then the master cut into her abdomen, pulled out her reproductive organs. Cut them apart. Probably force fed her some of them." By now his voice was faint, ecstatic.

"Her ears were cut off. Her lips and eyelids as well. Her legs were dissected, very precisely. The arteries were not cut. The bones in her legs were pulled out. That took some time. She didn't die of blood loss, she wasn't bleeding all that much. Don't ask me why.

"Her ribcage was opened. The bones weren't broken, they were cut. Then her ribs were removed. She was still alive.

"The master took out her right lung. Then half her liver. Then a kidney. Then they took her teeth, after breaking them. Her nose was removed.

"Then the master stole her eyes."

Shinji tilted his head to better look in the window. His eyes glittered, agreeing with the ever-so-wide contented smile decorating his face. He was, at the moment, taking time to enjoy the havoc within the apartment, standing on the balcony railing as he was.

For the first innumerable time in the last three hours, the railing groaned beneath his not insignificant weight. In response, the boy rested more of his weight on the sill of the window. The chaos within was wonderful, simply wonderful.

"Joy to the world," he sang horrifically off-key, "Chaos reigns. Let us receive the flame…" and so on.

More screeching anger emanated from within the building. Shinji sang louder.

Something struck the window he was staring through, and he laughed and sang.

Somewhere in New Jersey a small child lashed out in the throes of a nightmare.

Nodachi lovingly caressed the scissors thrust in his belt. Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

He'd done the dirty bits first, and as he was sneaking—rather incompetently—out, the basket had fallen on his head. That was when he had achieved the most brilliant idea he'd ever had.

Next it had been to Kat-lady's, which had taken quite a long time. Who knew a woman could have that much?

Then to the German whore's room, which had taken, if anything, longer. What sort of demons inhabited these mortals that they had so many…?

The rail groaned again, for the second unnumbered time. This time, however, the boy missed it, and consequently approximately four seconds later he was sent tumbling down the side of the apartment building as it gave way.

In a free fall, a body accelerates at nine-point-eight zero meters per second squared. This is, of course, assuming no air resistance, and thus bodies fall at slightly different speeds, depending on surface area, mass, and initial velocity.

Three seconds later, at the approximate speed of twenty nine and four-tenths meters per second, Nodachi hit the concrete of the sidewalk.

There was a moment in which passing pedestrians did nothing, attempting to reconcile to the fact that yes, a relatively young person had fallen more than forty two meters off of the building.

Then there was panic.

A moment later Nodachi curled up, snoring loudly, the only sign of his fall two of his arm hairs floating away on the wind.

The pandemonium paused, making sure he was actually alive. Upon confirmation of the fact, the pandemonium resumed, though now for different reasons.

And above, the shrieking of two females who have just found their collective wardrobe filleted continued.

The world was mad, Shuriken had decided.

Of course, if the world wasn't mostly crazy it probably wouldn't have survived very long. Death was, after all, something completely mad. Without death, the world would have turned into some sort of orgy of frenzied breeding. The mere prospect of a world where she couldn't kill anything turned the nerves in her back numb with terror.

Immortality was a nice idea and all, but much like Hong Kong, it was a nice place to visit, not live.

She had her immortality already, and was quite frankly becoming annoyed with it. Who could be interested in that kind of ultimate sanity?

Certainly not her.

She looked down at the commotion of the physical education class from her perch on the roof of the school.

'Dachi hadn't been to school in a few days. For that she would hurt him, when she finally found him. The Ancient One had mentioned something about Nerv dunderheads taking him away, lead by that triple-ish agent. And something about a shotgun.

It was time for Nodachi to get over that strangest of phobias of his. One day soon she was going to shoot him with one a few times.

"Hey!"

She turned slowly, rolling against the rusting rail in a distinctly feline manner. Shigeru and Peter, she thought their names were. The one with the camera, which was trained at the pool where the girls were swimming at the moment—she wasn't certain this was conscious—and recording, had spoken.

Shuriken regarded him with the same sort of curiosity she looked at the Irish with. When they were drunk, at least.

Of course, there had been that most entertaining of priests, almost as fanatical sober as the Ancient One himself. What was his name? Heinkel or something, wasn't it?

The boy in glasses looked far less certain of himself now that he had caught her attention. His eyes kept flicking to her face for short instants, and then away. Most mysterious, she thought. Close on the heels of that came 'gutless salmon.'

The other one, in the tracksuit—stupid choice of clothes, far too much loose material, she could have killed him with just that—looked faintly ill. Too, he kept glancing at the corner of the rooftop, then away as fast as possible. Strange indeed.

"Ja?"

He looked confused. No, she disagreed quickly, just uncomprehending. In a sort of "What the fuck just happened, mate?" sort of way.

Shuriken waited patiently. Which meant that she was only _beginning_ to twitch violently and reach for her mostly concealed weapons.

He started to stutter rampantly, which under Shuriken's curious gaze rapidly degenerated into mindless rambling.

Sometime between his speculation on why people couldn't trust eggplants—Purple! How are people supposed to trust _purple_ plants?—and his muttering about people who had sex with dolphins, Shuriken stopped listening.

Track-suit boy Peter looked vaguely disturbed, she thought with no great amount of interest.

"And you are here why?" She interrupted several minutes later.

Shigeru-camera-boy stopped babbling. He looked rather confused. "Here?"

Peter answered for him. "Are you really _the_ Shuriken?"

Her eyes went wide, and she whipped the loops of wire out of the lining in her sleeves, draping them around the boy's necks in a distinctly less than smooth motion.

"How," she asked, voice creaking oddly, "do you know that name?"

"Kensuke," she heard Shigeru, "hacked into the JSSDF computers," Shigeru waved frantically, trying both to get free of the loop around his neck and stop his companion from giving the girl more cause to tighten the wire his companion apparently hadn't noticed, "and ran across this super-classified thing called _Havok_, and found pictures of you and Ikari in it."

Shuriken thought, not particularly long or hard, before deciding that it really didn't matter to her, but if the Ancient One found out that she had let someone who had managed to hack the Japanese Strategic Self Defense Force's mainframe, he wouldn't let her hurt anyone for weeks again. At the thought a mournful tear trickled down her cheek, remembering how Nodachi had come back drenched in so much wonderful blood just to annoy her.

She tightened the loops, and in short order the boys passed out.

Then she started to drag them back to the Ancient One.

Who was, at about that time, dragging the somewhat less than aware Nodachi to the apartment, whilst ignoring the enraged shouts of the less-than-clothed women.

Nodachi snored.

Shuriken stared.

Then she started laughing. Nodachi. Snoring. It… wasn't something that happened. Nodachi didn't snore. Snoring was reserved for other people. People who… were not Nodachi. Nodachi was a freak, such was true. But Nodachi didn't _snore_.

He stopped snoring, and the world was right again. As right as it ever was, at least.

Shuriken proceeded to pounce upon the boy, blowing the wind out of his lungs and waking him up rudely.

"You snored!"

'Dachi sputtered. Then he hacked. Then he grabbed Shuri's hair and slammed her head into his.

There was a strange crack as their unnaturally thick skulls met with an impact of the approximate force of two Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles meeting in midair, though the results were markedly different. Instead of the more traditional explosion, there was a puff of blue dust as some of the gel Shuriken liberally pasted into her eyebrows was shaken loose.

The dust proceeded to blow into Shinji's eyes, where it turned his corneas a strange shade of indigo.

He yelped as it stung angrily, not unlike a swarm of ired insects. Within the strangely unfocused world that was all Shuriken could see, she missed the fist that struck the side of her skull.

She rolled off the bed, head hanging strangely at an angle.

Nodachi kicked her.

She twitched.

He kicked her again, and she twitched more violently.

He sniggered pleasantly, and proceeded to kick her more.

Not even God knew how long he would have proceeded to continue, had there not been a groan of faint surprise. He looked at the source curiously, snaking his head around the corner of the door to see the two captives.

He cackled madly as he turned back to Shuriken.

"Makoto and Sam, aren't they?"

**End Chapter**

_Pat's Kensuke and Touji on the head._

"Don't worry. Someone knows your names. Somewhere."


	19. We Four

RichardRahl—Oooh, bugger. Noooo! Stay away! Keep that spoon away! Clutches

legacyZero—Blood Royale? I'm going to have to find this. Yes, Makoto and Sam/Peter and Shigeru are Kensuke and Touji. They're here 'cause Eva just ain't the same without them. Oh well.

Karibanu—Shuriken is pleased that you like her ways. Of course, I'm absolutely terrified of you now.

_Disclaimer: I do not condone or practice the below actions_.

-  
Ocean Red

Chapter Nineteen: We Four...

A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction

By CrimsonNoble

-

"So…" Ye Olde Ancient One stared. "Why the hell did you bring them here?"

Shuriken puffed out her chest. This had the oh-so-very-close-to-interesting effect of proving that she had, in fact, cut her right breast off. Seeing as she was left handed, this confused several people she knew to no end. Her blue dreadlocks whipped feebly in the vague impression of wind from the fan.

"They knows 'bout Havok and shit."

"That's nice. Why do I care?"

"Shut up, 'Dachi."

From his folded position on the only chair in the room, the Ancient One tapped his knee. Oddly, it was not with the customary appendage, which would have been his left foot, but with his fingers, and moreover they weren't even on the usual side of his body. His posture was, as ever, perfect, though there was certainly more of a forward tilt at his waist than usual.

He's interested, Shuriken thought.

"How?"

"Shigeru-" she indicated the boy with glasses, and Nodachi interrupted.

"-Makoto!" Shinji objected.

She smacked him for the interruption. "_Shut up, 'Dachi_-hacked the DeForce comps."

Red eyes widened. "With what?"

Shuriken automatically reached out to hit the Ancient One too. Absently he caught her hand and cranked her wrist to the breaking point, holding it there for a second or two. "Like I'd remember?"

"You should."

"Why _should I?_" Shuriken demanded.

She received one of the hardest hits she'd ever felt in return. "I expect it."

From her position some twelve feet away, and through a wall, Shuriken replied: "Oh. I didn't ask anyway."

"Wake them up."

'Dachi grinned. "Do I get more fingers?"

The Ancient One stared at him for a long moment. And longer still. 'Dachi wilted under the stare. And wilted some more.

"Okay!" He hissed. "No fingers! I got it…"

"What?"

"Shut _up_, Shuri."

She smacked him again, across the back of his head. He retaliated in kind, and the force with which the strikes were delivered progressively increased until 'Dachi slammed face first into the floor. His nose broke, though he didn't notice this until he rammed his foot into Shuri's back, forcing himself into a headstand to do so. He only noticed it because his nasal cavity filled with blood, forcing him to sneeze it out.

Shuriken pounced on him as soon as she could, and from there it degenerated into a brawl across the floor.

Ordinarily, the Ancient One would have encouraged this. In fact, he would have tossed weapons to them, in an effort to make it more interesting. Then again, ordinarily he would have had the survival room at his disposal. As things stood, however, he wanted to know how the boy with glasses had hacked to that level of security in the JSSDF.

So he tossed a blade-indeed, it was _just _the blade-into the squirming mass that was Nodachi and Shuriken, with both alternately trying to ground and pound or pull the other into some sort of lock. The blade tore a chunk out of 'Dachi's left earlobe, and continued on to impale Shuriken's hand. Both swore, violently. This would have been startlingly impressive, as they dove through a dozen languages in as many seconds (not even the same dozen), if he had not been the one to teach them profanity in the first place.

'Dachi took the opportunity to ram Shuriken's face into the floor, before standing up. _That wasn't fair_, he wanted to say, and then thoroughly congratulate the Ancient One.

He kicked Shigeru-Makoto. When the boy didn't wake up, he did it again. And again. The fourth kick brought the sound of ribs breaking. The boy woke up. He screamed. Shinji pouted.

The Ancient One made a summoning motion with his toes. 'Dachi obeyed, trotting over like a puppy. The Ancient One grabbed him by the back of the head, and rammed his face into the floor. "Don't," he said by way of explanation. "Leave," he added after a moment.

-

Shinji tugged open the box he had appropriated as his mail.

He squealed with happiness. There, in his box, sat a nice, fat credit card taken out in the name of NERV.

"Shuri!" He roared up the stairs.

She struck him across the back of the head. "I'm over here, fuckface," she said.

"Look!"

"It's… a credit card."

"This is not just any credit card!" 'Dachi's arms whirled about, "This is the beginning of a guerilla war on NERV!"

Shuriken hit him again. Apparently she'd missed his off switch.

"Calm down and shut up."

He nodded. "Away!"

She hit him again.

-

A priest stepped out of the monorail. He wore a long jacket, the better to hide his army of Bibles from the wary public. His eyes glittered cobalt from beneath a pair of thick, bottle-bottom glasses. He wore a cross on his left ear, and his non-regulation length hair trailed down the left side of his face, hiding most of it from view. Beneath, his skin pebbled - as though from cold water. The only difference was the tan, lighter on his cheek. He donned gloves, white, so that he need not touch people with his skin.

Behind him trailed a sister, garbed in much the same manner. Her hair, what there was of it, hid beneath a hat of sorts. From the hat dangled crosses a brace of crosses. Her skirt swept around her ankles, and though she was short it made her seem taller.

The priest glanced toward the local derelicts and fingered his collar nervously.

"Japan," he whispered to his companion, "is a land in which seeds must be sown. This _NERV_ is an obvious blasphemy."

"Yes Father," the sister replied in heavily accented Latin.

"It must be damaged in the public eye."

"Yes Father."

There was a whirring noise as the monorail departed.

"Now go forth, and do my bidding."

She went. She went to the bathroom.

So did he.

Minutes later he emerged, and squatted before one of the derelicts. He held out a hand, in which he squeezed two cards.

"Here, my son," he said calmly.

The derelict looked at him blearily. Immediately he knew he had made a good choice. Help, there would be.

"Take them," he said. "Use them well, but worry not about it. The Lord provides."

He dropped the cards on the derelict's lap. Then he left.

The derelict looked at the cards. One was an identification card, with his face on it. The other was a credit card.

He picked them up slowly.

-

He shrugged out of the stifling jacket, and split his collar open to cool off a bit.

Damn, if his 'suit didn't run _hot_.

He shed the gloves and the glasses. Then the rest of the uniform, leaving him clad in only the skintight, black 'suit. He pulled on a long sleeved, neon green shirt. Then a pair of offensively orchid pants, which he fastened with a violently violet belt. The priest uniform went in the trash.

After a moment's search, he located the duffle bag his partner had dropped off. He unzipped it, drew out the six cans of carbide and checked the seals.

Technically three of them were made of glass, but he called them cans. No, he didn't care if they were technically something else.

The seals held. _Good_. He replaced the cans, picked up the bag, and walked toward the T3A. It was but ten minutes away.

He walked through, looking for the bathroom closest to the aircraft. He entered calmly, glanced around to make sure it was empty, and went about his work.

There were eleven things inside the duffle bag. The six cans, a lighter, a pack of NERV-brand cigarettes, a screwdriver, a full can of NERV-brand Raid, and a box for it all. He rammed the screwdriver into the lids of all six cans, four times each. He lit a cigarette and placed it on a sink. He placed everything but the cans and the Raid in the duffle, shoved the gun into his pocket, and pulled the bag on.

He dropped the cans in each of the stalls. Then he left.

He walked away. Very quickly.

He mimed checking his watch, swore violently, and burst into a run.

The cross danced below his ear.

He was not two hundred feet from the bathroom when the makeshift explosive detonated.

-

She stood against the brick wall at the back of the alley, gazing innocently at her pursuers.

Please, police, she thought. Six inches closer.

Her hands were white, and held behind her. The long skirt had gone, having served its purpose. The hat had too. She was left in long, oversized cargoes, cinched at the waist with a length of rope, and something that was not, in fact, a shirt. It was a sort of plastic paint, sloshed on. It was also neon green. Her dreadlocks hung around her face.

Six inches.

One step.

The policeman took it. His flashlight beamed in her face, and he started to ask why she was there.

Her hands whipped out in front of her, and she pressed the button on the can down. The stream of insecticide took the man full in the face, and he dropped, screaming.

"Wha?" the next cop already had his gun aiming toward her, but she was already in his face, left fist buried in his gut.

And _flex_.

His body jerked, and her hand came away red to catch his gun. She reached back and snatched the first policeman's gun from where it lay, still spinning. The safeties were already off, she noted.

She stayed in the dying man's silhouette, propping him up with her knee as she shuffled back. She braced her arms on his back, and fired three times into the remaining two officers.

She dropped the guns, scrawled a message on the wall in blood, and walked away.

-

She shoved a gun against his temple. He knew this because it she told him. She told him because she wanted him pissing in his pants terrified. He was.

"NERV is not pleased with you."

He shivered.

"So, you see, I'm here." The gun wandered around his skull as she circled. "I don't like you." Her clothes were hideous. Hot pink on white. "And my employers don't like you." A flower on the back, _La Vie en Rose_ above it. "But more importantly, the Mother doesn't like you."

"Who's the mother?" He croaked out.

"The Mother is the Mother. But see, NERV don't want you dead. And this is _upsetting_. So, be very careful, because my fingers don't like staying still."

It was the worst threat he'd ever heard. It was also the only threat that had ever been directed at him. He nearly defecated on himself.

"But because they don't want you dead, I'm going to give you some very, very specific instructions. Don't bother nodding." He stopped. "First, you are going to tell everyone about this little incident. _Everything_. Or I will kill your family.

"Then you are going to publicly accuse NERV of trying to kill you. You are going to do everything possible to investigate NERV, and bring charges against them in humanitarian interest."

He started to nod.

"I said don't nod.

"And you are going to begin within a week. I do so hope we understand each other."

Then she struck him across the back of his head, knocking him out.

-

The Ancient One sat; everything perfectly in place. To his left, a bottle of orders. To his right, a laptop computer.

"It's been a while," he said.

"That it has." She sat in front of him, fingertips held less than a centimeter apart and above her knees. "You haven't changed."

"Everyone changes."

"You don't." She laughed.

"True enough. You haven't changed either.

"Please, Six. We were freaks."

"Shut it, Twelve." If the Ancient One was Six, and the woman was Twelve, the man was Three. He watched the other three warily, with what attention was not focused on the computer in his lap.

"Get an ulcer, Three."

"Get a new haircut, Twelve."

"How did it go, Nine?"

The second woman shrugged. "They're questionable."

"Twelve?"

She smiled contentedly. "Reliable."

"Three?"

He tapped his laptop. "They're good. When they want."

"We all know about mine, non?"

"Know and wish. They're good for their age."

"They're good, Twelve, because I made them that way. Have you been negligent?"

"Six, yours are the easiest to pass on."

"Mine are half complete."

"No one cares, Nine."

And almost at the same time: "Which half?"

"Their bodies are complete," and a glare for Three, "and their minds are weak."

"How so?"

"No restraint, even when it should serve them best."

"Ah."

"Where are yours?"

And a shrug from Six, the Ancient One. "Returning."

Puzzled: "From?"

"Blaming NERV. I believe they have one of yours, Twelve."

She frowned. "How?"

"I have jewels."

"Hate those things."

And promptly, the door opened. Three stood in it, teenagers, and one seemed to be hanging from the edge of the above floor.

"Oh." Nodachi, "Fuck."

"What happened to the other two?" Shuriken demanded, brushing past her brother-half.

"Old age caught them," Three.

"That's right…" she leaned over him. Standing, he would have been taller by some ten inches. "You're runners, aren't you? Oh no! There's old age! Quick-away!"

He stood, impossibly fast. It took the Ancient One's breath away as it had the first time. Three _moved_, and Shuriken was pinned to the wall, hand around her neck. The three other seniors did nothing.

'Dachi, however, moving with all the speed of an augmented Saevrok, had his hand at Three's ribs less than half a second later.

"Don't underestimate the 'suit," he offered. "You can't risk letting time catch up."

He glared back, and _moved_. 'Dachi's action came a moment too late.

Then he was in a hammerlock, his palm against the runner's abdomen. Shuriken's hand almost immediately pressed against the runner's face.

"Don't underestimate the 'suit," 'Dachi repeated, and tore his arm away from the man.

"They're good," Three acknowledged.

"It's the suits."

"Suits?"

"DF tech. Show him, 'Dachi."

The boy struck a theatric pose as the door closed behind him. He drew a hand down his face, tightened his fingers as they reached his collar, and the material parted smoothly as his hand approached his groin.

Shuriken rolled her eyes and struck him across the back of the head. Only the presence of the four seniors held Nodachi back from turning it into a brawl.

The material beneath his shirt was matte black, and looked to be made of thick fibers. Over his pectoral muscles they ran from his sternum to his arms, over his shoulders they drew lines from his neck to his biceps, and so on, following the direction that the muscle beneath would flex.

"Interesting…" Nine moved to inspect the 'suit. "How do they work?"

"Something with implants. The fibers contract. I'm not the technician."

Shuriken, however, knew. She knew so that she could bore anyone who asked about the 'suits to death.

So the next few minutes were hell on earth for everyone present but Nine.

**END CHAPTER'D**

Sure. Slap someone. OBEY!


	20. There is no title

RichardRahl—I be'd stuck with school. And junk. Pen-Pen is hiding such that he is not found by the unscrupulous Nekkid Wimmenfolk as current occupy the apartment.

Grey Wolf4—Danke.

legacyZero—I don't know if they're sticking around. I had a plot a while back, then Nodachi-Shinji slapped me upside the head and said: "No way in hell I'm doing that." There were three old fogeys, plus the Ancient One, and then their various student-slaves. Witch Hunter update should be fairly soon.

dogbertcarroll—Plot? No one needs plot. Don't be silly.

Carrot-Six—Oh come on. Brightly neon colors are the best way to go incognito. People just think you're another random punk. Shh, the Ancient One's booze is distilled penguin extract (okay, I was watching X2. Silence). Secretly, under their enmity, the clock-names are friends. Kinda. Well, they worked together. Certainly vague. My Knife of Clarity rusted. It's at -2 now.

Ocean Red  
Chapter Twenty:  
A Neo Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction  
By CrimsonNoble

"Turn on the news."

Shuriken obeyed, somewhat meekly. After a moment of fiddling with the knobs of the set, she knelt and squirmed over to the person on the couch.

"Don't grovel," the person said, and Shuriken stiffened just a little. "Open the door."

She obeyed, finding that there was another teenager outside. Such: unsurprising.

Damn Nodachi, she reflected as she shuffled aside to allow the other teen to enter with a cry of, "Mother!" Damn him for getting to avoid this.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Shinji laughed. 

Then he ducked and rolled aside, neatly avoiding the flying can of beer. And the twenty other cans that followed it. He stood up, and laughed more.

The next can of beer left a nicely circular welt on his forehead. It also sent him staggering right back out the door.

"That wasn't nice," he whined. "Good show."

"The fuck are you talking like a Brit for?"

He flicked the German off. "I'm going to hurt you," he said.

"Try it," she snapped.

This was a Bad Idea. Fact number one, Asuka wore only a towel. Fact number two, the door was still open. Fact number three, she did not have a key.

So it hardly surprised anyone as knew Nodachi when he grabbed her 'round the throat, slammed her against the rail, and skittered inside. Then he locked the door.

Shortly followed enraged screams.

"Loud cunt, isn't she?" Shinji asked the room. Then he shoved his hand into the frame of the door, tightened his fist, and watched curiously as the metal groaned and twisted. It would take perhaps a wrecking ball to get it open.

Then he wandered into the next room, and had someone else been there they might have been aghast at his discourtesy, wearing shoes inside the house, and stared violently at the Twister mats on the floor.

"Okay," he meandered. "Not going to think about that."

So he trotted out onto the rear balcony of the apartment, stared down, and tossed the key to the door over the edge. It vanished.

He wandered back into the kitchen slash living room slash whatever the hell they were calling it now. The uniroom.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

"Let her in, Shinji."

Misato steeled herself. Shinji was going to look at her again. With his _eyes_.

Well. It would be quite scary if he'd left them behind somewhere. 

"Da door be stuck," he said.

It was true. The frame was twisted such that she didn't see how it could be repaired without obtaining a whole new door. In fact, it was twisted rather like a large mouse had gnawed on it. A mouse with five teeth.

"Did you stick it?"

"You appear to have a rat problem," he said.

She titaniumed herself. "Open it," she ordered. Her voice wasn't really steady, shaking like she was drilling the road, in fact, but it was an order. And as such, Shinji responded as he sometimes did to orders from people he didn't much like (ie: everyone).

Misato watched curiously as the boy patted himself down. It was a slightly Awkward Moment, deserving of the capitals. Moments later, he pulled a battered coin from somewhere—please, Misato thought, tell me that wasn't his ass he just pulled that out of—and rolled it over his hand a moment, cleaning away some of the grime to see which side was which.

Then he flicked it into the air.

Then it hit the floor.

"Heads!" he squawked. For a moment, but only a moment, he hit exactly the wrong pitch. Precisely. Like he'd been aiming for it. He'd found the sound of rust.

So he barreled into the door, knocked it straight out of its track, into the German, and carried the whole tangled mass over the rail, taking part of it with him. About halfway through the descent, he observed that beneath was one rather uncomfortable looking girl in overlarge combat boots, some sort of peculiar jacket, and carrying a sword.

Despite the whole illegality of the action, Shinji squeed. A _sword_! In this day and age! How freakishly quaint! The irony overshot him by about three feet.

He just had to kill her.

Then she vanished, he realized that maybe he should stop eating old rye and barley and focus more on the molding chicken, and he crashed headfirst into the ground.

Snoring ensued.

Then the door hit him. Then the railing tried to impale him, missing, however, by about two inches. Asuka, as things turned out, had managed to snatch hold of the edge of the walkway of the complex, losing six fingernails in the process and flinging more than a little profanity down at Shinji, and swung herself onto the floor below.

Then the towel hit him.

He screamed in sheer agony and terror. It was a towel.

Not only that, but a clean towel. Now, Shinji liked towels, but a clean towel was clearly an aberration. He panicked, tried to tear the towel off his head, failed, and bolted, screeching like a wounded rhinoceros. Rhinoceros-brontosaurus. Thing.

Rhinotosaurus.

He ran into a car.

The car lost.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Kashi looked curiously at the cuffs binding his wrist. Three pairs—so they'd noticed. That was fine.

He pulled against the cuffs experimentally. No, no give. Interestingly, the officer had braided the polycarbonate links. Was that stronger? He wondered.

He turned to look out the window, and like a ghost _he_ was there. There! Impossible! _He_ wasn't in Nippon anymore!

No way Haine would stay in Nippon. No way in hell.

No, Haine wasn't there. Haine wasn't standing not ten feet from the patrol car. Haine was not raising one hand, was not holding a gun. Was not pulling the trigger.

The window did not break. 

The braided links did.

Kashi looked at the separated manacles, the perfect windows, and the divider between where he sat and where the officer sat. _How_, easily the first question to come to his mind. _How to get out?_ The second.

The officer had not locked the doors, but he didn't need to. The patrol car doors could not be opened from the inside. At least, not in the back seat. But sometimes, one could force the door open.

He pulled on the handle. The door opened. Panic ensued.

Kashi slipped from the patrol car, not exactly subtle in his white, pure cotton garb. The car stopped. The car vomited the officer, who charged after Kashi with the grace of a wounded bull and the speed of a motivated sloth.

Kashi was gone before the officer had a chance to pull his weapon.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Shinji tapped his fingers against the table somewhat awkwardly. He looked between his father and the commander. Both of whom had received the police summons. It was a mildly uneasy moment as all three sets of eyes connected.

Shinji fought the urge to jump onto the table, strip himself naked, and scar everyone watching for life. He was assisted by two factors, first that he was handcuffed to the chair, second that the Ancient One had already seen him naked, perhaps been scarred, but nevertheless thrown him through a wall. Following which, he'd been tossed into the survival room.

The Ancient One fought the urge to break the table, step through, and kill Ikari. He was assisted by two factors, first that Ikari was not, in fact, looking at him defiantly, and second that he knew the officer that would have to try to arrest him.

Ikari fought the urge to call in section four to kill the albino and incarcerate the boy. He was assisted by no factors, including but not limited to the peculiar gaze in the albino's eyes and the constant shifting of the boy's hands.

Arthur looked at the monitor and gave in to the urge to call for backup. Strange things were afoot in that room.

"What is the problem?"

It took Shinji a moment to decipher who had spoken. When he realized they both had, he shuddered. He'd hoped and expected them to commit mutual homicide. Synchronicity was not expected.

He grinned. Neither man was impressed. "Which one?"

The Ancient One reached across the table, wrapped his hand behind Nodachi's head, and slammed his face into the metal surface. The officer stepped toward him, reaching for the shorter man's shoulder and trying to not soil himself when the Ancient One turned his head to glare. He wisely retreated.

Ikari watched in a sudden fit of paternal joy. He approved. The pathetic disciplinary standards of the Tokyo Three school system ruined children.

Nodachi stood, his bindings snapping tight and dragging him back into his seat. His leather wristband tore, just a little. His jaw dropped, appearing to unhinge, and he let loose a saliva-laden hiss from the secret place that threatened to choke him every time he tugged on the Power.

The Ancient One rammed his hand into the gaping mouth, striking Nodachi's epiglottis. Nodachi gagged, jerked back away from the hand which snagged his teeth, and hacked.

"Don't." He said.

Nodachi snarled and strained against the handcuffs, his face twisting into something nothuman.

"Follow your orders," the Ancient One said. Then he backhanded the boy across the face and sat down, marble again. He blinked, and his blue eyes focused on Shinji's hands where they dented the table.

Shinji breathed slowly, carefully. It was not peace of mind that made him do so, it was self-preservation. He pulled his arms away from the chair, for all appearances gently, and broke the cuffs.

"Your will be done," he said.

The Ancient One stood and walked out of the room.

"Are you going to work with Soryu?"

"Is that an order?" Shinji's voice trembled.

"Yes."

"His will be done," Shinji repeated. Then he left.

"His will be done," Ikari repeated, chewing the words thoroughly.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Kashi closed his eyes and touched the wall of the alley. He ran his fingers over the plaster surface, and… yes, the city was still the same.

First thing first, change of clothes. That would be easy enough.

He started off at a loose lope, sticking to the alleys. Alleys were easier, they didn't get remade often. Certainly not in three years. But he was off a little. His steps were not shorter, but they took him not as far as they had. He didn't cant properly anymore. It wasn't much, but it was enough that he turned just a little too early and clipped the corner with his shoulder.

Not ten minutes later, discounting the time he spent on his ass because he ran into several walls, he slowed to a stop in front of the bar. It was a bar, and only a bar. A place sad people went to get smashed. He smiled at the bartender, who smiled back blandly.

"I'm a little tight, Jake." _Fucking Hemmingway_.

He sidled toward the seat in the back, next to the bathrooms. It had two uses for most people, either a place to pass out in or a place to make out. Only someone heavily drunk could think it a good place to try either. For Kashi, it had a third purpose. Many years ago, he had hidden a locker key there, and paid quite well so that it would not be removed by the janitorial staff. He found it, still sealed in the awkward corner behind the seat. It was covered in grime and dust and filth, but that was okay. It was still there.

Only it wasn't okay. It was dirty and filthy and he could feel the unclean crawling up his arm and burrowing into his flesh and he needed tweezers or a knife or a razor because he had to get it out and off or the tight feeling in his chest would twist and pull him inside out.

He dropped the packet on the table, and gripped his elbow, twisting the flesh to crush out anything, seeing the larvae as they burrowed into his skin, legs digging into his flesh for traction so their mandibles could shift more and more of his _self_ aside so they could get deeper and deeper and their round ringed mouths could consume more and more of his arm and his blood and his _self_. Feeling the larvae. Moving. Digging. Squirming. Biting.

Kashi squeezed his arm to his side, still kneading the flesh. He curled over in two, breathing hard, counting the lines, tracing each from the far left of his field of vision to the far right, calculating where the knot was but already knowing because he'd sat there before and looked at the table. He knew, and so he tapped his head against the tabletop, over and over and over again.

Half an hour later, when he'd recovered, he ordered three pints, breaking his six year long abstinence. He stared at the table six inches from the packet as he ordered and waited and drank and paid. Paid with someone else's money, given his status as an escaped convict. Not that he killed the person whose money he paid with, just found him drunk and rifled his pockets. With the assistance of the napkins, he tore open the envelope, was pleased to find the plastic seal on the key was still intact, and removed that to find his wonderfully, blissfully clean key.

He left the bar, unfazed by the alcohol. He went next door to the defunct gym, broke in through a boarded up window, and moved to the appropriate locker, which he unlocked, opened, pulled out the plastic-covered bag (once again using his napkins, he had gloves in the bag), broke out of the gym, opened the bag, pulled out his outfit, dressed, and disposed of it. He was very careful to get rid of the prison clothes in a garbage bin ten blocks from the bin where he trashed his bag. Even then he was careful to tear the polyester into unrecognizable strips, and kept those strips with his identification number on them. His best friend once called him paranoid. But then, his friend was drunk at the time and dead not two days later.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Asuka glared at the Third.

Shinji stared back.

Nodachi hissed.

Asuka turned to look at Misato. "I'm really supposed to work with this idiot?" she whined.

"Yes, Asuka."

"Fine," she said, and turned to the Third. "But you better not try anything!"

Shinji's face twisted into an avatar of confusion. "I've been ordered to not harm you," he said, absently noting that while Asuka managed to have an entirely new wardrobe already, Purplie was in a dress he'd evidently missed (possibly because it was at the dry cleaners).

"Not that! Don't try anything perverted!"

Perverted was one of those Words. The sort Shinji didn't think about because he didn't know what it meant, and it was really too long to care about. "Right," he said, and then dropped his voice to a sibilant hiss again, "then don't fuck with me," and for added emphasis with regards to his utterly carnivorous nature, he stroked his lips briefly with his tongue. It worked better than he could have hoped, Asuka jumped away as if shot, and Misato leaned away from the table she had maneuvered between herself and the boy. She leaned away so far, her chair slipped and she toppled to the tile with a crash, made slightly more uncomfortable for the beer can she landed on.

She decided the floor was safer for the moment and stayed there, ignoring Asuka's screams and only moving when Nodachi dropped to all fours to scurry around. At which point she decided that her room would be even safer, and so retreated there, wishing and hoping and dreaming and praying that the Demented One, her new nickname for the one with the _eyes_, would ignore her presence, and ruing and hating and fearing the suddenly incredibly stupid custom of not having locks on the doors because she really didn't think the Demented One had an ounce of Japanese respect in him.

Shinji sat in the middle of the living room (or whatever it was today) area. He smiled, giggling and wrapping himself up in his arms. His eyes fell on the mats with the flashing spots and he tilted his head curiously. He fell forward and crawled toward the mat to his left, sliding his head back and forth, twisting it to point one of his eyes at it at a time. He blinked rapidly. He picked up one of the headsets, tilting his head to look at it from underneath. Slowly, perched on his toes and one hand, he lowered the set onto his head.

Immediately he was assaulted by the strains of some peculiar, melodic composition. He yelped as the notes drew baseball bats and began to hit him with their pencils. Metaphorically speaking, anyway.

Shinji yelped, tore the headphones from his head, and ran, swatting at the notes. He crashed through the paper door to Asuka's room, fled across her bed (planting one or two footprints on her in the process) and into her closet, where he bunkered down and prepared to fight the good fight against the musical notes. Asuka looked at him, one eye peering out of her closet, very briefly considered trying to boot him out of her room (mindful all the time of the fact that she couldn't breathe), and left the room. At a run. She crashed through the door to Misato's room, tried to dive under the lady's bed, squealed as she ran into the mattress, having forgotten that Misato didn't have a bed proper, flipped onto her back on top of Misato, and chaos ensued.

Pen Pen opened the door of his fridge, waddled on out to the other fridge, opened it with a fin, pulled out a can of beer, and waddled back to his fridge. In true penguin nature, he squawked and went back to planning his world domination.

He was right about the point of figuring out who his loyal penguin-pirate-ninja crew would be.

**Yearrrrgh! Divider!**

Gendo Ikari sat, his hands folded as he stared at the five council members.

"This is not according to schedule."

"This is highly unusual."

"This is not within acceptable parameters."

"The Second and Third are supposed to be working together."

"Gentlemen, rest assured that they are working together."

"Reports from my officer in the field disagree."

"Indeed, my reports indicate that your son and the Soryu girl are at each others throats."

"Trying to kill each other, one might say."

"I have most disturbing reports myself, Ikari. I'm told that your son has executed someone."

"Unfounded suspicions. There is no proof of his involvement whatsoever."

"We all know how much proof counts for here."

"After all, concealing information is your specialty."

"Indeed."

"Ikari. The Human Instrumentality Project is all that matters. If your son is causing deviations from the scenario, terminate him."

"How interesting, I have been receiving reports that your son is consorting with a ranking officer of the JSSDF."

"And that your son himself is a JSSDF employee."

"Serving under one of the strike units."

"From the second World War."

"That your son is a member of the unit."

"Don't be absurd, he's far too young to be a conscript."

"Not a conscript, a volunteer."

"The JSSDF would never have accepted him."

"The JSSDF has no standards."

"A fourteen year old could get in if he lied about his age."

"And evidently he did."

"We are not as stupid or ignorant as you would like to believe, Ikari. Your son's psychiatric evaluation is highly classified by the JSSDF. Not even he has seen it."

"Not that he would have understood what it meant. His grades are not classified."

"His transcript is identical to another child apparently registered with the JSSDF at the same time by the same person."

"Interesting, is it not?"

"Meaningless conjecture. No factual basis."

"But you do not deny it."

"I just did."

"We gave you this life Ikari. We can take it away."

"Gentlemen, the deviation from the scenario is not yet too extreme. With a few minor adjustments it will proceed."

"But it will not be smooth."

"Are you trying to tell me that the plan will be destroyed by one hitch? The scenario was made to be more flexible than that."

"You have already deviated more than was allocated to you. Count yourself lucky that others have not fared so badly."

"The scenario will proceed."

"If it does not, Ikari, your life is forfeit."

**End Chapter**

Kashi has no real effect on the plot. He exists for another point of view, as it were.  
Sonofabitch. FFN, why the fuck are you killing my space dividers?  
Except living towels, of course. They got dead too fast.


End file.
